


The Way To Fly

by whitenoiseghost



Category: Assassin's Creed, Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood Multiplayer, Assassin's Creed: Project Legacy - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Confusion, Explicit Sexual Content, Extreme Character Development, Fear, Flirting, Gen, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Introspection, Long, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Characters In Major Roles, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Near Death Experiences, Non-Graphic Violence, Oral Sex, Possible Threeways, Rampaging Plot, References to Illness, Sensory Overload, Smut, multi-chapter, references to injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 05:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 52,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitenoiseghost/pseuds/whitenoiseghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Il Lupo (The Prowler) survives Fiora’s (The Courtesan) attack and is saved from drowning by a doctor and healed of his injuries. He begins to try to repair his life, betrayed and thought dead by the Templars he abandons his burned name, dresses in the clothing of a common man and then by chance, embarks upon an infiltration to rival any he had ever perpetrated as Templar Agent, when he is rescued from some threatening guards by the Assassins and recruited to the Brotherhood.</p><p>This is the story of a nameless man, discovering who he truly is over time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is long and involved and is more easily understood by those who played the Assassin's Creed Facebook game, Project Legacy. Many events referenced in The Way To Fly are directly from Project Legacy.
> 
> Tags are for the entire story. Specific warning can be found at the beginning of the chapter

 

Chapter Warnings: allusions to violence, vomiting/illness, light cursing in Italian 

 

  
Awakening had come as a  _bit_ of a shock.  
  
He was almost certain he had breathed his last, with that treacherous whore's poison twisting his insides and paralyzing his body; with the merciless water rushing up over his head. He knew very well what manner of toxins Fiora favored and had been in the process of building his immunity in the case that, as he suspected, she could not be trusted. He was an employee, no more and no less but he knew that if he ever became a liability, it would be his life and not just his livelihood. However the Borgia paid and equipped well, certainly better than pickpocketing had ever provided him...  
  
Although he hadn’t entirely left off that either... a little extra coin put away for emergencies in caches hidden around the city in places known only to him. It was always better to plan ahead, lest one be easily displaced by the most casual of betrayals. He had learned much while being trained to act and fight and kill as the Assassins did, supported and protected by the powerful Templar Order but he had always known that his place was anything but secure, simply given the course of training he had been through.  
  
He was a spy. He was a  _killer_. He was a thief and a scoundrel... and also, it now appeared that he was a casualty.  
  
It had been too short a time in coming; her betrayal unexpected but unsurprising. He had nearly gotten to her with his rapier before falling to his knees in agony from her wretched poison. Still he was not dead, as he assumed she believed him to be when she had rolled him into the river. Had his tongue not been held still by the poison’s effects he would have been cursing her name even as the black water closed over his head.  
  
But his caution and well placed distrust of his employers had apparently been his savior as intended.  
  
For he still lived...  
  
Upon sitting up, he realized suddenly that he was very much inclined to lie right back down again, the world tilting crazily and his back on fire with agony, his stomach churning. He managed to heave himself over to the side before vomiting. Strangely enough there was a pail already before him when he purged the sour, metallic bile. As he sagged, panting; throat raw and eyes half blind with involuntary tears, the pail seemed to move away and set itself down a few feet away. Then a beak-masked face with darkened lens-eyes became just visible to him, seeming to hover in a sallow shaft of dirty sunlight which spilled down through a high window.  
  
Initially he recoiled but no... it could not have been Malfatto... Il Lupo recalled hearing of that sinister character’s death through his eavesdropping; killed by the Assassini if the rumors were to be believed.  
  
“D-dottore?” He managed to barely croak, his voice ruined by bile and drowning.  
  
“It would be best if you were to remain still, young man.” The beaked mask bobbed slightly with its wearer’s words but with the lack of any visible mouth, the effect was disconcerting in his muddled state; the deep voice seeming to come from inside his pounding head.  
  
Wary, but unable to do anything to improve his lot, Il Lupo closed his eyes and eased himself back onto the mattress he lay upon, wincing as his lacerated back rasped against the sticky sheet. His skin felt hot and swollen there and it burned terribly. He grit his teeth against the pain, a chill sweat blooming on his forehead and upper lip. His throat was parched and his lips felt cracked when he attempted to soothe them with a dry tongue.  
  
Then there was moisture at the seam of his chapped lips, a slightly bitter tincture of herbs, seeping into all the tiny cracks and fissures and stinging badly but at the same time feeling almost rapturously good. As the glass was tilted gently against his mouth, an equally gentle hand moved behind his head to support him as he drank deeply then coughed, sputtering as he tried to take down too much. The glass was withdrawn and a damp cloth mopped his lips and forehead.  
  
“How...?” He managed as his eyes drifted closed again. Breathing slowly he tried to will the pain to the back of his mind and with the help of whatever had been in that glass, it became easier.  
  
“I witnessed your ‘murder’ and after the one with the fan disposed of you in the river I salvaged you. I intended to sell you to the Artist for coin to buy my supplies so you can imagine my disappointment when I discovered that you were alive.” The doctor spoke cavalierly but even in his weak and wounded state, Il Lupo recognized humor, dry though it was, in the man’s deep voice.  
  
The fit of coughing triggered by his bark of laughter wracked his body for a long moment and when finally his spasms relented, he sagged bonelessly against the mattress, breathing shallowly and it was well that the doctor merely said-  
  
“Rest.”  
  
Because Il Lupo was rapidly losing consciousness anyway, the last image he saw before his eyes fell shut; the Dottore leaning close, his bone-white, beaked face and dark reflective eyes emotionless but somehow not devoid of life. He seemed worried, with head cocked slightly to the side much like a real bird might do... Il Lupo’s mouth quirked up at one corner before he faded off into the void between dreams.

 

 

 

~O~

  
When next Il Lupo awoke he was alone and he noticed, feeling much improved. The second thing he noticed was that he was in a bed, although not the same one he had initially regained consciousness upon. Il Lupo sat up, the quilted coverlet sliding off his body which he saw was bandaged across his back and around his chest. He was otherwise nude and saw no sign of his belongings, however there were some items on a chair beside the single small bed he occupied.  
  
He discovered a set of inconspicuous clothes; white chemise and gray tunic, simple, striped breeches and plain brown boots, the garb of a commoner. It suited him just fine. He was done with the Borgias. He was  _dead_  after all. There was also a small pouch of coins and a cloth wrapped package which, upon closer inspection proved to be a loaf of bread and a slab of dry cheese. Beside it sat a clay jug that a quick sniff revealed to be brandy.  
  
Had that strange doctor done all of this for  _him_? Il Lupo marveled for a moment but could make little sense of it. Such altruistic behavior made him naturally a bit suspicious but he could find no reason for the feeling in this case. He shook his head to clear those thoughts. It did no good to think on such things. He was alive and healing well, it appeared. He had clothing and food and a little money. He just needed a plan.  
  
But first he needed to piece together where he was and what his next move should be. Far too many things had been wrested from his control recently. He rose from the bed on legs which were a bit wobbly from inactivity. Discovering a small table near the wall bearing a basin and pitcher filled with water and a cloth for bathing and beside it on the floor a wide low earthenware pot, the purpose for which was fairly obvious, he made use of it all before stepping into braie and breeches, pulling the chemise over his head with a wince as his damaged back stretched and pulled.  
  
This place looked like an inn, and a cheap one it seemed. Il Lupo poked around the small space, observing the room’s simple furnishings and the single dirty window overlayed with iron lattice at the bottom. He peered out and down to the alley below. It looked blind and disused and the room he occupied was on the second floor. That was good to know.  
  
Suddenly there was a knock at the door and Il Lupo nearly jumped out of his unlaced breeches, going automatically to deploy a weapon which was not there. He cursed under his breath, testing his unused voice by first humming and then quietly calling-  
  
“Si?” He cringed waiting for the door to come open but it remained closed.  
  
“Signor...? I was told you might be ill... are you alright?” The male voice on the other side of the door sounded elderly; kind. “The Dottore who paid for your lodging... He asked me to look in on you should you not emerge within two days... It has been two and one half days, Signor...”  
  
Assuming he was being evicted, Il Lupo began tugging on his new tunic, going for the boots. Again he thought upon the odd doctor, everything actually fit him quite well... “I am feeling much better, grazie. I will leave quickly as I have clearly been here overlong...” He rasped, feeling the strain on his damaged throat.  
  
“Oh, not to worry... Your room has been paid for five days. I am pleased you are mending well, buongiorno.” The man beyond the door called in departure and Il Lupo could only repeat-  
  
“Buongiorno...”  
  
Standing dumbfounded in the middle of the room he didn’t move until he could no longer hear the old man’s footfalls on the ancient floorboards. He then sat back down on the bed, pulling the tunic back off and tossing it over the chair. He had decided to test the trustworthiness of that bizarre Dottore and remain where he was. He was ravenously hungry and the simple meal he had been provided looked as good as any feast. It failed to even occur to him to suspect poison as he ate and had some of the brandy. Then when he had finished half of what he had been given, gratefully crawled half dressed, back into the slightly lumpy bed to attempt to regain more of his strength.  
  
And the food was  _not_  poisoned... and no guards came for him... and nobody else knocked upon his door for the rest of the day as he slept on in a mercifully dreamless torpor.

 

 

 

~O~

  
“ _Vittorio Vitelli..._ ” He spoke the name to himself, staring into the eyes of his slightly wobbly reflection in the polished metal mirror which hung above the basin, scraping a week of beard from his chin with a honed straight razor. He missed his concealing hood but at this point he would be more recognizable with it than without. After finishing with the razor and tying his hair back in a low tail, he schooled his face through a set of social emotions, charming smile, raised brows, eyes pinching shut as he widened his smile to give an appearance of innocent joy. He lowered his head and looked out from under his eyelashes, smirking. Yes... He could be Vittorio... Victor... _Survivor_... every bit as easily as he had been The Wolf. It was just as well that his birth name was as lost to him as the unknown woman who had given him life.  
  
He would leave this room in a few moments and become someone else.  
  
Il Lupo, or rather  _Vittorio_  was not certain why he had been “killed” but if the Borgia thought him dead he was not about to correct them. He was unsure even, if his murder had been ordered or if it was just part of yet another betrayal. Not that it even mattered. If he ever encountered Fiora again he would put a knife through her neck and call that settled, regardless of her allegiances...  
  
He tugged on his boots, smoothing his tunic into place and belting it. He felt rather exposed, absent his hood and the presence of any weapon to secure his person. The razor was on loan from Roberto, the old innkeeper and thief though he may have been,  _Vittorio_  just could not bring himself to steal from the friendly old man. He paused to briefly wonder again at the chance he would meet two kindly strangers right in a row; that he had been delivered into the hands of such curiously charitable people, directly after being so brutally betrayed.  
  
The razor he would leave behind.  
  
He resolved to acquire at the very least a boot knife as soon as possible... His coin was nearly gone, given to the innkeeper for meals after the provisions his savior-doctor had left him ran out. He really needed to get to one of his caches.  
  
His thoughts turned again to the Dottore who had saved his life; who had given him so much without any expectation of repayment. And while it did occur to him that the man had more than likely sold his weapons and any of his other possessions which were not ruined by the river, he could not find it in himself to hold it against the Dottore. For all he had done, the man deserved something, seeing how he was unable to sell Il Lupo’s corpse.  
  
That man had proven to be a true doctor. He could easily have finished Il Lupo off, after discovering him so tenuously alive. It would have taken but a instant to end him and he would have been no further trouble. In fact his corpse would have turned up a tidy sum but the doctor had held true to his oath and had stayed his hand from doing harm; had instead saved Il Lupo’s very life; had healed his wounds and tended his illness in a manner befitting a friend or family member, not a complete stranger. Not only that but he had provided a disguise. Perhaps it was only some inexpensive, plain clothing but it was the look of Il Lupo’s new identity, a far departure from his Templar frocks. He would not stand out; would not draw a second glance and he would disappear into the crumbling heart of Roma, despite the Borgia presence.  
  
It may not have been pity or even piety which drove the kind to do good... and he may not have understood what it was that did, but he could grasp the concept of gratitude and as long as he continued to draw breath he would move forward. He might have been a  _bastardo_ but he would not forsake the gifts granted him by whoever it was who had created him and he would try to do right by the people who had legitimately done him good turns.  
  
This he vowed as  _Vittorio_.  
  
He had briefly considered leaving the city behind entirely but Roma was his territory... It was the place he knew best and it contained all his favorite hiding spots and haunts. It was home, for what that was worth. He did not intend to be forced out and when he thought on his comparatively brief employ under the Borgia he felt a bit subdued but also angry. Thus far his life had afforded him little space to flex any manner of principles or morals. He was a creature of opportunity and guile; intelligent and ruthless; one who lived by his wits because he knew no other way. He became whatever he needed to be in order to best survive and he would carry on, by  _Dio_. He would  _not_ be brought low by circumstance. He would remain and he would watch from the rooftops and spy on the decedent fools he had served.  
  
As the short, tragic story of Il Lupo had been closed like the snap of an iron tipped fan, so the door closed behind  _Vittorio_ with a creak and he descended the stairs to the tavern space below the rooms and greeted Roberto at the counter, informing the old man of his departure; promising to return if he should need lodging again. Roberto in turn promised to inform the Dottore of his recovery and to convey for him what  _Vittorio_  felt could only amount to inadequate thanks. With a final wave he pushed open the door and stepped out into the morning sunlight, a common citizen.

 

 

 

~O~

  
The very first thing he did was mark the inn, called  _Gallo_ , on his mental map of the area. He was in the Centro District down near the river, over all not too distant from where he had been 'killed'. The area was well known to him as was most of Roma but he had never bothered with inns other than to use their roofs and balconies to move about the city. When working for the Borgia his lodgings had been quite well appointed and also provided to him as part of his retainer. He could no longer call that place home however. His time with the Borgia was well over. They were insufferable anyway and Cesare was mad. He had observed that much in his time within the Templar’s house.  
  
It was small wonder he had been betrayed. He should have seen it sooner. He should have been more aware during the series of high profile assassinations of Templar agents which had occurred in the last days before his own murder. He should  _not_ have heeded the signal at the statue Pasquino that day, convinced now that it had been Fiora alone who had orchestrated his murder; that she had not been under order from Cesare.  
  
Fiora was with the Assassini, he was certain of it.  
  
Vittorio still could scarcely believe that  _puttana_  had actually managed to get the drop on him.  
  
So with no home to go back to and no allies save those he had only just met, he required shelter, a secure place where he could go to ground should he need to and  _Gallo_  practically felt like his home at this point, after a week of habitation. He did mean to return. In fact he thought perhaps to make a room there his new base of operations, provided he could turn enough coin up to pay for such an extravagance... He had spent several evenings during his recovery at the largely deserted tavern bar talking with Roberto, mainly to test out his new identity on a real person but also for the companionship. He had kept the company of murderers and spies and reprehensible madmen for so long it was almost a foreign experience to speak of trivialities with someone who was hiding nothing; who did not smile through teeth grit in contempt. The old innkeeper had offered to cut him a deal on long term accommodation but he had initially declined, unsure of his intentions in Roma. Now however, he had resolved to weather the storm and remain.  
  
As he walked along the streets, merging with the crowd of market goers and others moving about their morning routines he had to consciously fight the urge to skulk in shadows; to pull up a hood that was not there; to make for the rooftops... He breathed deeply to calm his nerves. Curse Fiora, her damage to him had seriously intruded upon his confidence. He steeled himself and proceeded down the cobble foot path. He had some things to check up on, mostly his stashes of money and weapons around the city. There was one nearby beneath a storehouse on the river. It was accessible only by boat, or swimming... He shuddered, involuntarily reliving his panic as the Tiber had closed pitilessly over his head. That his lungs had been temporarily paralyzed by poison was the only thing which had saved him from taking down too much water and drowning.  
  
He would locate a boat later when it was dark.  
  
Right now he meant to wander and observe from street level; to practice being invisible in the crowd. He would find a living somehow, he was good enough to operate independently as a thief, outside of the guild or the gangs and he could certainly steal horses. He had excellent skills in both armed and unarmed combat so he could easily mug as well as pick-pocket. He would return to  _Gallo_ and repay Roberto for the two extra days he had been extended “on credit”... The dichotomy of such a thought process was not lost on him and he chuckled, shaking his head. He need not steal to repay Roberto... He had plenty of coins hidden away.  
  
Again he wondered at himself; at the effect of his resurrection upon his mind; at the cold fear he now experienced when looking upon the Tiber... Truly he did feel as if he had been given a chance to start again... He was smart and resourceful and dedicated to his own survival but now also he had been made to seriously call into question his methods for surviving. He had been saved literally from death by people who owed him no such compassion and it made him feel humble... it made him feel like a  _villain_... The Dottore who had pulled him from the river and then saved his life could not have had any illusions about why he was a corpse floating. Clearly he was a blackguard and quite deserving of his watery fate...  
  
But he  _had_  been saved.  
  
Roberto, unknown to him until he had awoken in the man’s inn, had treated him with familial kindness; had asked no questions of him and had been a comforting presence as he rested and thought upon his strange situation.  
  
He knew he was not quite the same person he had been before... It was well that he was  _Vittorio_  now... if Il Lupo truly was dead.

 

 

 

~O~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vittorio's life changes even more than he ever thought it could.

Chapter Warnings: some canonical violence, slight physical arousal, medical examination, light cursing in Italian

  
Later on he would only be able to shake his head in wonder at the bizarre series of events which had led him through a specific door on Tiber Island...  
  
The enraged guard who had been about to strike him had fallen at his feet, sprouting a feathered arrow shaft dramatically from his left eye,  _Vittorio_ could only back up against the stone balustrade as two more fell atop one another, the first by another arrow and the other with a man, white robed and hooded, landing on his back with a wrist blade buried in the base of his skull.  _Vittorio_  was temporarily frozen in shock. He had been scouting the docks for a boat he could use later to access his cache and had perhaps looked a bit too suspicious going about it; or it could have been his clothing they didn’t like; or the fact that he was alone and armed only with a long dagger he had lifted from a fat merchant napping on a bench. One of them had shouted at him, calling him some demeaning name and roughly asking his business as  _Vittorio_  ground his teeth. He was still not quite back in fighting shape after being near death and he did not want to attempt to fight all three guards but they did not seem interested in reasoning with him and were making as if to force him over the balustrade and into the river, advancing on him with swords drawn. He had brandished his dagger fiercely, wild eyed with fury and panic but they were arrogant and also correct in assuming that they had the advantage of numbers...  
  
...at least until the arrows began falling.  
  
 _Vittorio_ had straightened up as the Assassino murmured some words to the dead and then jumped clear, dashing to dispatch another guard who was approaching from the left.  _Cazzo_ , he knew this music! He had observed this dance being performed before... He was being rescued by the Assassini! He was going to meet the Maestro himself! After all this time and all his spying, he had to do naught but dress himself as a commoner and anger some stupid puffed up Borgia underlings?  
  
Ridiculous... It was so ridiculous that he was still laughing as Ezio Auditore da Firenze approached him and laid a hand upon his shoulder. He thought briefly to run the man through with his dagger just to say that he had... but what purpose would it have served? He was no longer a Templar and owed allegiance to no one beyond an anonymous Dottore and old Roberto...  
  
But he had noticed an odd flicker of expression over the legendary Assassin’s bearded face as he looked up from the spreading pool of blood on the cobbles, meeting the man’s ready smile and sincere brown eyes. Ezio had paused strangely in the middle of asking  _Vittorio_  something about valuing freedom and resisting the Borgia, his smile faltering as he had cocked his hooded head to the side, seeming to stare right through the suddenly terrified  _Vittorio_. The former Templar wondered if the rumors were actually true. If, like was whispered, the Maestro Assassino really did have some strange, otherworldly power about him...?  
  
But Ezio only nodded after a brief moment, seeming satisfied and resumed his queries regarding Vittorio’s allegiance... and as Ezio spoke to him,  _Vittorio_  had watched his mouth move; watched the words form with the shapes his lips and tongue made; watched the line of a scar which bisected his mouth at the right side, twist and stretch under his mustache. Found himself staring rather long and taking a little color in his cheeks, a pleasant tingle ascending his spine as the imposing and heavily armored man's warm hand still rested on his shoulder as if they had long been acquainted and had not only just met. He nodded his agreement, stiltedly voicing assent and after a moment, the Maestro had stepped back and regarded him warmly, flashing a brilliant smile. He was being offered a place in the Assassin's Brotherhood... By  _Dio_!  
  
 _Vittorio_  had fallen to one knee and denounced the Borgia.  
  
And that was how he had been recruited to the Brotherhood. As he approached the door Ezio had indicated, it opened for him and he stepped through into the dim interior. The heavy door closed behind him and a man whom he was quite intrigued to learn was an Assassin had greeted him, seeming to already know that he would be arriving. Niccolò Machiavelli... someone he had seen coming and going from the Castel Sant’Angelo and had believed to be on good terms with Cesare.  _Vittorio_ was careful not to show his surprise. As he was conducted on a short tour of the Assassin’s Brotherhood headquarters he saw but did not speak to a few of his new allies, one man he even recognized as someone he had observed being saved some months earlier in a similar manner to his own rescue, during the time he had spent spying on Ezio and his Assassini.  
  
So this is what became of them once they had been approached by the Maestro... For some reason  _Vittorio_  had always assumed that they just returned to their lives but it seemed Ezio’s army was still growing... or that attrition had forced the necessity for replacements...  
  
Machiavelli gave  _Vittorio_ a choice of Assassin Apprentice uniform pieces to match to his liking and outlined a series skills he would need to master and tests both intellectual and physical that he would have to undertake and pass to complete his training as an Apprentice. Training,  _Vittorio_  was told would begin immediately although when he learned of  _Vittorio's_  still healing injury, Machiavelli had said he would first have to visit the Tiber Island Dottore and get his wounds examined. _Vittorio_ easily agreed, and that was that. He was given a sealed letter to present to the Dottore but told to remain dressed in his common garb. He left then, giving Machiavelli his word that he would return promptly and discreetly after getting his health evaluated.  
  
Upon locating the shop-front he was met by the standard beak nosed, lens-eyed plague mask the doctors all wore; dark, waxed robes glimmering greasily in the slanting evening sunlight. The torches were yet to be lit and the shadows were growing long between the buildings, orange light reflecting eerily from the flat glass disks which concealed the Dottore’s eyes.  
  
 _Vittorio_ offered the envelope and the masked man took it without a word, breaking it’s wax seal and scanning the contents. Seeming satisfied with what he saw he beckoned  _Vittorio_ to come around the counter and conducted him behind a curtain with a gentle hand at his back. There he indicated a plaque on the wall with written instructions burned into it’s wooden surface.  
  
Undress to your braies, per favore.  
  
Sit up straight on the stool, per favore.  
  
Grazie...  
  
 _Vittorio_ raised a brow but complied without further question, removing his belt and tunic; boots and breeches; pulling the chemise over his head and laying it all down on a low table that the Dottore indicated. He then sat upon the stool with his back straight and his head held up high, waiting as the beak-faced man looked him over, prodding the knitting flesh on his back and checking for signs of infection. It would leave a wickedly ugly scar once it fully healed, of that  _Vittorio_ was certain, the poison had burned his flesh, leaving weeping blisters which had slowed the healing but it was all looking and feeling much better after a week of rest and the early treatment he had received just after being pulled from the water. As the Dottore’s gloved fingers drifted over his body, pressing over areas on his lower back and center abdomen he squirmed, embarrassed. The beak masked man made a tutting sound, seeming satisfied that  _Vittorio_ was in good health and that his wound was healing properly. Standing back up to his full height, the Dottore turned, pulling a chain attached to the bottom of the plaque and another wooden panel dropped down from behind the main portion. It read-  
  
You may now redress...  
  
But only your body, not your grievances.  
  
Grazie.  
  
Vittorio laughed aloud and the Dottore hummed, amused.  
  
“I am pleased to see you are mending well, young man... Although I am rather  _hurt_ that you do not seem to recognize me...”  _Vittorio_ gaped, and the beaked mask again tilted to the side, much as it had the last time  _Vittorio_ had seen it, when he had been blacking out with trauma, pain and drug...  
  
“You!” He nearly fell off the stool. “I- You’re the one...! I- I do not know what to say! Mi disp-” He sputtered around the gloved fingertip that pressed to his mouth just firmly enough to interrupt his words and fell silent, rigid on the stool and flushing hotly. The fingertip slid away.  
  
“I was joking my boy... It is medical humor, si? He rapped his knuckles on the hard mask which concealed his face and made him look exactly like a hundred other Dottore around Roma.  
  
 _Vittorio_ had apparently forgotten how to close his mouth and the masked healer again helped him, just brushing his chin with the same gloved finger which had silenced him and  _Vittorio’s_  mouth shut with an audible click although his eyes remained wide for a moment before he sagged, letting out a breath he had been holding in much too long.  
  
“Grazie- grazie, Dottore... I- Everything you did for me... I in no way deserved any of it. Grazie for saving me instead of letting me die and selling my body to the Artist... Grazie for the clothing and the room and for the bread and brandy...  
  
“You forgot the cheese...” the mask almost seemed to grin when the Dottore tilted his head back.  
  
“Cazzo! And the cheese!” Vittorio laughed while at the same time trying to swallow around a suddenly tight throat. His eyes stung and he could not remember having smiled so genuinely in a very long time.  
  
“How could I call myself Dottore and even think to do otherwise young man?” The beak tilted down, the masked face appearing suddenly stern but his voice held only kindness. “You were alive. I saved you. It was not a choice.”  
  
 _Vittorio_ bowed his head.  
  
“I believe you can resume your normal level of activity without risk. You are healing very well. Now get dressed and return to the Brotherhood. It is a  _good_  place for you.” _Vittorio_ could feel warmth even through the heavy leather glove when the man briefly gripped his bare shoulder as he moved past and the smile in that deep voice hung in his mind as he obediently rose and began to dress while the Dottore returned to the front of his shop to address a line of waiting patients and customers.  
  


~O~

  
It was another week before he was fully healed, not that he had let the minor pain from his wound hinder him in his training. When he had returned with the Dottore’s approval, Niccolò had remained dubious of his ability to function with such an injury but  _Vittorio_ had soon shown him right, preforming some tumbling and then besting first one Apprentice in a duel with wooden practice swords and then another in a hand to hand fight, sending the man sprawling gracelessly to the hard stone floor.  
  
 _Vittorio_ had felt pride swell in his chest when he turned to face the small audience which had gathered and had seen the Maestro lingering in the doorway, watching him with the same impressed expression that Niccolò wore, eyebrows raised and mouth curled into a bemused smirk.  _Vittorio_ smiled, directing his gaze to all who stood to applaud him but mostly to the Maestro and he thought he might have seen the man’s own smile broaden slightly.  _Vittorio_ flushed with pleasure at having caught his attention but played it off as exertion from the spar.  
  
His opponent had picked himself up off the floor and approached, clapping  _Vittorio_ on the shoulder and offering a rematch which he had accepted, quickly defeating the man again. After that the Apprentice had decided he was finished and politely bowed away.  _Vittorio_ had done his level best to not look smug as Ezio once more met his eyes and smirked knowingly. He then disappeared from the doorway in a flutter of cape and  _Vittorio_ only  _just_  managed to suppress the urge to chase him.  
  
As the room cleared out and the Apprentices went back to their evening activities, Niccolò had approached him and announced that he was to begin his trials the next day and  _Vittorio_ had smiled until the man turned dark scrutinizing eyes on him and squared his own chin with thumb and forefinger, musing in what seemed to be an intentionally offhanded way, that there might not be much to teach him that he did not already somehow know... And  _Vittorio_ had feigned nonchalance, offering a self deprecating claim of luck on the first try... to which the man had lowered his chin and regarded him shrewdly from beneath his prominent brow, observing that he had been victorious on his first try and also his second and his third...  
  
 _Vittorio_ had kept eye contact and shrugged; asking, perhaps a bit cockily, if already possessing martial skills was some kind of problem.  
  
Machiavelli had straightened back up then, clearly not having expected that response. He replied that no, there was no problem; that he would be trained as any other Apprentice and if he happened to excel then he would be advanced quickly. But he had also offered a warning.  
  
“Physical prowess and the ability to fight and to kill is not the sum and total of what we require of our Apprentices. It is not even the half. Understanding will come if you are open to it.”  
  
Heeding, if not fully comprehending Machiavelli’s words, he had resolved to be more careful. It would not do to show up his new allies and incur their envy and ire. He knew these men and women were not saints, they were killers and they were people... He needed to be one among them not one above them. Also he vaguely worried that the nature and origin of his skill might be further drawn into question should he appear adept too quickly.  
  
Still, he could not deny that it had felt very good to impress Ezio; both arousing and satisfying at once. It intrigued him but he decided not to think too much on what his intentions toward the Maestro might be should he get a chance at the man...  
  
A week later and he could say one thing for certain. For all Fiora and Baltasar’s spying and conniving; for all their study and attempt at replication; for all his own attempts to get close to the hooded presence which was slowly devouring the heart of the Borgia whilst inexorably driving the head to lunacy; despite everything they thought they knew...  
  
They had understood  _nothing_  of the Brotherhood.  
  
He would repeat the tenets of the Creed, feeling like a spy even though he was not one any longer, at least not for the Templars. He was spying for himself. He was fascinated by the people he had landed amidst by the strangest and most unlikely series of events. While he was here he wished to know the Assassini... To complete his mission and become the closest possible replica... indistinguishable from the real thing, if only for himself. And in order to do that, he needed to understand, so he pondered, he questioned Niccolò and he read.  
  
To stay one's blade from the blood of innocents:  
  
In an organization which moved the world through death, such ideals of mercy seemed an odd fit to him but The Creed indicated that the only ones who need die were the corrupt and the greedy; those who would subjugate through fear and ignorance, those who looked upon the common man as mere tool or fodder. The Assassins sought to foster independent and diverse thought, trusting the people to guide themselves by wisdom while the Templars would simply roll over it all; dig it under and plant anew from their own seed pouches, as was their way.  
  
To be as one with the crowd:  
  
It was not their many and varied methods of killing that made the Assassini so feared, it was their ability to kill like ghosts. He had seen it happen; a flurry of motion, white and red; a scream of confusion and panic; a truncated cry or curse and then silence; stillness; save for a foot fall or the flap of a bird-tailed robe in the wind. He had not even managed to count them the first time and he had failed to follow any back to their hideout on every occasion. It was a power they gloried in, and he had chuckled lowly when recalling how enraged Fiora would get, while he had developed yet more respect for his quarry.  
  
To never compromise the Brotherhood:  
  
To never cause any among the Brotherhood to come to harm through either direct or indirect action. This seemed to be a very lofty ideal which all in The Order strove toward but which even the greatest among them occasionally fell short of. It was a hard target, that kind of loyalty; that kind of self-sacrifice; that kind of object consideration in both thought and deed. He wondered if he could ever really feel that kind of dedication to something other than his own survival... could he ever cast his life aside for an idea? For a Brotherhood of people? For  _one_  person?  
  
Il Lupo? Never. Well..?. No... Probably never...  _Vittorio_..?. He didn’t even know anymore... Dottore had created chaos in his once ordered mind with his selfless actions and the former Templar’s new “family” continued to keep him off balance. Not to mention the Maestro...  
  
He thought on the Templars. Their harsh methods of conquest and suppression of one ideology versus their promotion of another, believing that rigid control of mind and spirit were the only way to keep the people from barbarism. He had been privy to little of it being essentially, extremely specialized hired muscle to the Templars and little else. The Assassins by comparison believed people required little structure over their will, reasoning that if all would conduct themselves with consideration and wisdom then there would be no violence or oppression and sought to ensure an even temper in government by picking off the corrupt and the evil and the mad who came to power.  
  
He found it interesting that both factions desired peace but only disagreed on the way to achieve it.  
  


~O~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training progresses and internal conflict surfaces. Vittorio encounters two persons from his recent past. He returns to Gallo to visit Roberto.

  
Chapter Warnings: unresolved sexual tension, sadness, guilt, fear  
  


Another two weeks and it was approaching mid August, the heat oppressive and the light golden in the late afternoon. He was out on the roof tops with an Apprentice called Marco as his pair, The man had been in the Brotherhood for almost a year and had already completed missions elsewhere in Italia and in Spain. He was considered a good stable partner, evenly matched in offense and defense and a very good archer.  _Vittorio_  liked Marco because of his clever tongue and sharp mind. The man wore a veil like mask inside his hood which covered all but his eyes and as a result those eyes stood out as the expression indicator on his face, lively with waggling brows and sly winks; crinkling with closed-eye smiles.  
  
 _Vittorio_ wondered what the rest of his face looked like but Marco never removed his mask.  
  
The signal! This would be the second time he had been called in from on high to assist the Maestro. Ezio would walk the streets openly at times but it could not be counted a violation of the second tenet. His mystery and that of the Assassin Order only increased with these sightings. The way he could calmly walk through the center of the city with a reward poster of his face, however terrible the likeness, on every wall and as he passed to have the guards fall down dead from arrows or blindingly fast hooded men from the sky, such as  _Vittorio_ , hidden blades lancing out to instantly kill.  
  
His hidden blade was fast, so very fast set against Il Lupo’s replica switchblade weapon. There was absolutely no comparison. He recalled when he had first been given it, he had extended and withdrawn it perhaps a hundred times in a row, sitting in a quiet corner of the Assassin’s Guild headquarters he had temporarily claimed as his own, feeling more childish each time but unable to care or stop. It had become a vague obsession by this point. But he had decided that he didn’t mind being obsessed with the beautiful, lethal thing strapped to his left arm. He had a rapier at his hip and other weapons about his person but he preferred the hidden blade. He preferred to fall from the heavens and land upon his targets, killing and laying them to rest in one swift motion and then disappearing into smoke. It was his favored tactic so far with his limited real life experience and he was about to see if it would work a second time, leaping down as Marco nocked an arrow.  
  
He knelt, head bowed, murmuring "requiescat in pace," to the dead men before him as the Master Assassin passed by and swept around the next corner. Vittorio had risen and made to scale the wall behind him and rejoin Marco on the rooftops but as he turned, there at the end of the street-  
  
 _Teodor_.  
  
When _Vittorio_ had been Il Lupo he had enjoyed the run of the Castel Sant’Angelo and often spied upon those who would come and go from Cesare’s chambers, practicing the skills which had been cultivated in him since his induction into the Templar Order. He would hide and listen; out on the grounds; in the rafters; from a thousand nooks and alcoves which nobody ever looked into.  
  
And he had learned many things about his fellows, things unsavory or enlightening; unsurprising or humiliating; useful or entertaining. He had enjoyed the information gathering most, tallying in his mind the things he knew about each of Cesare’s Captains and Officers; his lovers and the enemies he called friend or family when within earshot.  
  
Teodor Viscardi had drawn his eyes straight away, arriving on a handsome black mare and dismounting with a subdued grace that one did not usually see from the thugs in Cesare’s employ, they being generally brash and vulgar in order to draw attention; quick to fight and cause a messy public scene. Teodor was possibly close to forty years, older than most of Cesare’s hired henchmen and he conducted himself with poise and dignity. He did not make the stable hands chase his steed when he hopped down as Donato would but instead handed the reins off with a polite bow as if he owed the help that courtesy.  
  
Il Lupo had become intrigued with him and began to follow him nearly everywhere he went. The Prowler of Roma had no illusions about what he preferred and for some reason the man excited him in ways of which he might have been ashamed, had he been the type to feel that sort of abashment.  
  
One time he had looked down from a high mason arch as Teodor had sparred skillfully against Micheletto with foils in the courtyard and been the victor. Cesare had been in attendance and had stepped in to clap his Officer on the back as Micheletto glared on from the sideline.  
  
From his alcove Il Lupo had watched as Cesare leaned in close to Teodor and brushed the backs of his fingers along the Officer’s strong jaw and instead of recoiling, the dignified man’s cheeks had reddened and his eyebrows had risen in the center and knitted with conflict, his gaze fixed on the stone pavers near his left boot. Il lupo had become so aroused by this subtle exchange that he had shifted forward involuntarily, nearly losing his balance when Cesare had backed away and Teodor had followed after his hand as it retreated, moving forward just half a step before regaining some composure and bowing stiffly then quickly departing. Il lupo had taken himself in his own hand on that lofty perch, immediately after everyone had left the courtyard.  
  
It was then that he had decided to seriously pursue the man... and had quite easily won him. But their encounters had always, by necessity been secretive and brief.  
  
One glance was all it took; one meeting of their eyes and he knew, although  _Vittorio’s_  eyes were cast into deep shadow by a hood as Il Lupo’s had been on the night they had finally been formally introduced...  
  
Perhaps that is why Teodor recognized him.  
  
He stood frozen as the Officer’s eyes widened, taking in his Assassin Apprentice robes and bloodied hidden blade, then narrowed; hardening as his mouth flattened into a thin line.  _Vittorio_ could say nothing, suddenly tight in the throat as if he had been struck there and as he stared, Teodor’s proud shoulders sagged and he looked suddenly much older than his years... old and tired and pained. But it was only for a moment, then the man drew himself up tall and wiped a gloved hand over his eyes before bowing minutely and turning to walk slowly away, leaving  _Vittorio_ with his heart clenching in his chest and his eyes stinging, the lump in his throat refusing to be swallowed down.  
  
Of course they had each felt something for the other... He was not a complete scoundrel... and if he was not then Teodor certainly was not...  
  
When Marco had approached him some moments later, touching him on the shoulder and asking if he was injured he had slapped the man’s hand away and bolted, vaulting a low wall and quickly scaling a building, the roof tiles blurring under his feet as he ran and jumped, taking ridiculous risks as he tried to will himself calm. He could not allow himself to dwell upon this. To do so would be counterproductive. Teodor now knew he lived; knew he was with the Assassini... The notion that the Officer might betray his identity to the Brotherhood crossed his mind and for a moment he felt real terror at the passing thought that he might have to hunt down and kill the man. He was not wholly certain he could bear to do it... It would be as Fiora had done to him. No... He could not do that to Teodor. Come what may, he would  **not** do that.  
  
In his heart he knew that Teodor was unlikely to speak of what had just occurred and there were very few others who even knew of his existence left alive. Baltasar was long dead and no one had seen Fiora in over a week. As he suspected she had been working with the Assassins against Cesare, helping them to take out many Templars, himself included. Although she had at least approached him alone. He was not sure if he appreciated the sentiment or not. Now he presumed she had simply crossed Cesare too far at some point or been discovered as the traitor she was and been finally killed. If all who remained alive in the Templar Order believed him dead save for Teodor then he could convince himself that he was secure enough... It would have to do.  
  
He reached a dizzying height atop one of the tallest towers in the area and folded himself onto the wooden hoist block, tugging his hood down over his eyes as he looked out over Roma, breathing hard and fast with the exertion of his flight. He held his head in his hands as his mind spun, traveling again and again over what had happened since his death; how many things he had been forced to try and understand; to reconcile against and with his nature; to adopt as his philosophy. His life had been ripped away and then returned to him, but changed forever...and he was furious and he was glad... Yes... he was glad.  
  
But for the hurt he had clearly caused to Teodor, he was grateful for what he rather considered his salvation.... By killing Il Lupo, Fiora had actually saved his life. The irony could not have been more pointed... and for the first time since he was a child, he turned inward and wept in rage, confusion and anguish, at a complete loss for how he should feel.  
  
Before, when he had been a mercenary in every sense of the word, his emotions had been simple. He had not experienced much inner conflict. If he wanted something he stole it. If he needed a warm bed he would charm his way into one. He would do whatever it took to survive. During his time under the Borgias his life had been more opulent, affording him time and resources to engage in educational pursuits and more gentlemanly pastimes, in addition to the killing and general mayhem he was routinely tasked with perpetrating. It was all just business. He was an employee, paid to do a job, trained for a purpose and damned good at what he did. The job had never demanded he examine his own heart as the Brotherhood did; to really think about the reason things happened and the roles that the people who  _kill_ and the people who  _die_  and the people who  _witness_ play; to look beyond the immediate death and see the chain of events that would follow it and to pluck the strings of destiny in the tune of progress and liberty from oppression; for the goal of peace and enlightenment.   
  
Sometimes he still did not understand it and at those times he would feel even more a fraud. He had been a Templar because they offered him resources and equipment, money and time to train, a purpose to fulfill, however seamy and reprehensible... and now he was an Assassin... for what purpose? To simply hide once more under a hood and kill at the behest of his superiors just as he had done within the Templar Order?  
  
He repeated the words quietly to himself, maybe to calm his heart. It did help actually...  
  
“Nothing is true...”  
  
Not his view, nor that of any other person... There was simply too much to consider. Strangely it was a comfort to know that.  
  
“Everything is permitted...”  
  
As a Templar he had done terrible things; blithely used people, thrown away chance after chance to do right, rationalizing that it was just business... ignoring and closing off his heart out of fear and old hurts, even now as he strove to understand and learn he felt crushing guilt but-  
  
But if nothing was true, then his new life as  _Vittorio_ could not be called any more a lie than his old life as Il Lupo... and if everything was permitted then he could sit up here and weep over Teodor...  _like a fool_.  
  
Everything had simply changed so much and he mused as the wind dried salty droplets to a crust in his eyelashes and the shadows of eagles drifted over him; as his heart still ached in his chest and his hands clenched in on themselves, nails biting into his palms, that perhaps this was where he realized that he was not simply surviving but actually living..? A person rather than a creature...? Perhaps it was more than even that...  
  
When he returned to Tiber Island much later, calmed and subdued with introspection. He sought out Marco whom he had struck and run from earlier, apologizing and simply offering the truth as an explanation. He had seen an old lover and been overcome with emotion. Marco had smiled with his expressive eyes and squeezed  _Vittorio's_  arm and said that he understood.  
  
And _Vittorio_  was certain that the man truly believed he did...  
  


~O~

  
Passing through the entry hall later that night, having only just returned from speaking with Marco,  _Vittorio_ looked up as the door swung inward and Francesco arrived, escorting a young boy.  _Vittorio_ recognized him instantly. Giovanni Borgia! Supposedly he was Cesare’s son although _Vittorio_ had never believed Cesare was really the boy’s father. What was he doing here?! Cazzo! He had been known to the boy as Il Lupo! Cesare never spared the poor child any of his unpleasant business and would often dispense orders to Il Lupo within view and earshot of his son. The boy was young but  _Vittorio_ was certain Giovanni would recognize him!  
  
He cast about in panic for somewhere to go but they were right before him, he had no time to flee! The small boy looked up from under long eyelashes and  _Vittorio_ froze in terror as dark eyes lit upon him and widened in recognition; grit his teeth against a shout, fear ringing in his ears when the child’s small mouth opened... and then closed again, his eyes drifting up and to the left for a moment. He seemed to be  _listening_. Francesco did not notice. He was saying something but  _Vittorio_ could not hear it for the blood rushing in his head, dizzy from holding his breath. After a heart-stopping second Giovanni looked back up to regard him curiously, staring right through him with unfocused eyes, saying nothing. Dio... He dared to breathe again.  _What had held the boy’s tongue?_  
  
 _Vittorio_  could not guess...  
  
“Are you alright?” Snapping out of his stupor, he tore his eyes away from Giovanni’s pale serious face. Francesco was looking at him with brows knit in an expression of concern, leaning far in toward him as if only careful, close-up study of his face could solve the mystery of why he was standing in the entry hall frozen like a statue.  _Vittorio_ recovered his composure quickly and leaned back from the invasion with a lowered brow and a frown.  
  
“I am  _fine_ Francesco..” He lied smoothly though his heart still hammered in his chest. Francesco straightened back up and  _Vittorio_ did the same, brushing the front of his robes with his hand as if the Artist-Assassin's proximity had somehow tarnished them. “I was only a bit shocked to see such a  _young_... visitor...?”  
  
“Recruit actually...” Francesco smirked, accepting his forged explanation easily. This is Giovanni Borgia. He is ours, born into our ranks but lost to our enemies, now returned. He is our Brother.”  _Vittorio_ raised an eyebrow, rather thinking that might not be the full story but he decided against questioning Francesco on it in front of the boy. Francesco knelt before Giovanni and indicated  _Vittorio_ by pointing.  
  
“This is Vittorio, Giovanni. He is your brother.” Unsure of what to do, _Vittorio_ took a half step towards them as Giovanni looked up at him again, smiling with eyes that held an understanding  _Vittorio_ did not expect. He knelt before the boy also, taking up his small hand and squeezing it gently.  
  
“It is a pleasure to meet you Giovanni.” He smiled as the boy's fingers curled into his palm, large brown eyes deep with a strange wisdom and calm grace which had been the thing to convince him when he was Il Lupo, that the boy could not possibly have been Cesare's offspring.  
  
He did not look as if he had been sleeping well, his eyes ringed with dark smudges.  
  
“It is a pleasure for me too...  _Vittorio_... I am glad you are my Brother.” Giovanni murmured, digging his toe into the floor.  
  
 _Vittorio_ smiled, releasing Giovanni’s tiny hand and ruffling the boy’s thick brown hair as he stood.  
  
“I am glad too Giovanni. Welcome home.”  
  
Giovanni would not give him away. He did not know why, but he knew he need not worry. He watched for a moment as the boy talked animatedly with Francesco, thinking upon his own strange fortune. Of all the things which could have ruined him, none had. Against all odds he lived; walked free; now served the Assassin's Brotherhood; followed The Creed...  
  
Faith was creeping slowly up on him; trust and reliance as much as he tried to resist... Who was he..? He didn’t even know anymore. Had he started to believe his own lies? Did a lie even _exist_  if he was in fact an Assassin and nothing was true? Was he a copy or an original and did it even  _matter_? Was  _Vittorio_ who he was always meant to be? The man his unknown parents would have been proud of? How could he hope to reconcile his past? It was agony and he didn’t even know why... but having seen Teodor earlier and Giovanni just now had only etched it onto his heart in sharper, more painful relief.  
  
He needed time to think and so politely excused himself and fled to  _Gallo_. He needed to return there anyway and this was a perfect opportunity. His stomach felt tight, nervous as he moved across the rooftops. He was unsure but hopeful. It seemed Roberto knew his Dottore personally and if Dottore supported the Brotherhood to the extent that he took patients on credit directly from Machiavelli’s own desk then perhaps his sneaking in through the roof access, wearing the garb of an Assassin Apprentice would not cause the old man to fall over dead from fright. Still he had little choice, he could not risk being seen going into the inn. It was a safe place to  _Vittorio_ ; one he would not compromise.  
  
He needed to talk to Roberto again; to repay the man, something  _Vittorio_ knew the kind innkeeper did not expect but which he felt that he should do anyway. Also he wished to explain what had happened after he had walked out the door three weeks earlier. Hopefully Roberto would accept his new affiliation in that unassuming way he had, giving _Vittorio_ a meat pie and an ale on the house for which  _Vittorio_ would pay him anyway, as it was when they had met before.  
  
When he arrived he found the tavern still open but empty. It was late already and as he watched from the roof across the street, Roberto emerged and took in his folding sign, barring the door behind him as he closed up shop for the night.  _Bene_.

_Vittorio_  easily traversed a lattice awning and jumped the scant few feet to the balcony over the doorway, hoisting himself up onto the roof and making for the courtyard at the center of the structure. He could enter off the mezzanine and access the hall that way. As he dropped down and moved into the hall towards the main stair he resolved to speak to Roberto about his establishment’s security.  
  
The oily metallic sound of a sword being drawn at his back stopped him dead and he raised his arms out to the sides, showing his hidden blade retracted and that he had no other weapons in hand. He turned his head to look past the edge of his hood, following with his body when he saw Roberto near the narrow staff stairway, brandishing a Falchion... He looked frightened.  
  
“Roberto... I- It is me. Mi dispiace. I am not here to do harm.” He fully turned and lowered his hood as Roberto dropped his sword point to the floor with a grunt of effort. It was obviously too heavy for him.  _Vittorio_ rushed to his side and put a hand on his arm, taking the sword from his grasp and laying it aside. The old man leaned back against the wall breathing hard, a hand over his eyes.  
  
 _Vittorio_ repeated. “Mi dispiace.” He did not know what more to say but Roberto recovered quickly, patting  _Vittorio's_  hand which still gripped his arm and letting out a long breath, chucking lowly at the end of it.  
  
“You nearly frightened me into my grave."  _Vittorio_ released the old man's arm, trusting him to be steady on his feet and Roberto smiled, looking upon  _Vittorio's_  garb and compliment of weapons carefully. "I see there have been some... changes in your life... You would like to talk? Or are you here for a room? Or a meal?  
  
“I am here for all three, amico mio, if you would still have me in your fine establishment.”  _Vittorio_ stepped back as the old innkeeper straightened and pushed himself off the wall, heading back down the staff stairs towards the kitchen.  
  
“Of course you are still welcome here... and if you are with the Brotherhood, even more so.”  
  
 _Vittorio_ smiled and followed Roberto down into the closed up tavern.  
  


~O~


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vittorio reflects on his new life and practices archery. Ezio offers several different opportunities.

  
Chapter Warnings: flirting, unresolved sexual tension, moral conflict

 

 

It seemed  _Vittorio_  could not keep his vow. It was just too satisfying to be better! He had begun with the typical rationalizations; that he was only besting his fellows at some things, not everything. He was competent on horseback but certainly no genius at it. Educated in his childhood by the Church, he could of course read and write in Italian and also Latin but some of the other Apprentices might speak half a dozen tongues. He was an excellent shot with a crossbow but his ability with the long bow had been only slightly better than average initially. Marco had raised his skill at it, correcting his form with gentle, patient hands and positive critical observation as he had practiced early on for his marksmanship trials and now he could best over half of those more seasoned than he.  _Vittorio_  reasoned that half wasn’t very flashy at all.

  
Now, with speed and stealth and  _theft_? He was a master pick-pocket. It being how he had supported himself after leaving the foundling house but before becoming a Templar and a hobby he continued to pursue throughout his employ under the Borgia. There had been a test, in the first days of his training involving a rigged game of marked men with coin pouches scattered through a crowd, which had quickly found him the clear winner, while the ringer who had been set against him without his knowledge had only been able to shake her head with fierce eyes and red cheeks, her teeth grit as she was forced to admit to having no idea what had happened. Marco, his trainer had been stunned into silence for a moment, his visible eyes wide and disbelieving.  
  
 _Vittorio’s_  ego had swelled.  
  
As they had watched the disgruntled Assassin stalk off, Marco leaned in close along his left side and whispered against his ear. The fabric of his mask and  _Vittorio's_  hood kept there from being any breath but  _Vittorio_  could feel his warmth there. “No one has ever bested her... I think you may have made an enemy for life, amico...” He had turned his head to see past the edge of his hood and caught Marco’s eyes. The masked man was clearly smirking. Marco had bumped their foreheads together lightly and then swept past him, away over the rooftops, beckoning him to follow as he ran and  _Vittorio_  had leaped after him, head down and arms thrown out to catch the air as he jumped the peaks and chasms of Roma.  
  
He had studied and practiced all of this hundreds of times over the course of his training under Baltasar and Fiora and then on after he had became a true agent of the Borgia, spying and continuing to learn about the Assassini. But it had been all about information gathering. They weren’t really ever trying to understand the Assassini only to imitate their methods. Fiora had at first believed perhaps that they were merely killers and that was the total of it. Later on she would admit to being unable to understand their motives, saying also that it did not matter. What was the aesthetic over the function in this case? They had the replica hidden blade and the tactics for killing and the trickery they employed to add to their mystery and intrigue.  
  
The one thing they had never managed to discover about the Assassini was just how enjoyable it was to be one. In this federation there were squabbles at times and there was always the threat of discovery and betrayal hanging over them but it was to be expected. These were turbulent times and the nest of vipers only grew larger the more it was trampled through it seemed. But out on the rooftops, in broad daylight, sweeping through Roma with the wind buoying him and the sun wheeling above him. It was a freedom he had never felt; not even while doing the same sorts of things as a Templar. He had come to realize that it was because of his Brothers and Sisters; his support; his back up; his family. He had been hooked in like a mark. He could not help it.  
  
He had fallen in love with this new life.  
  
After a very short while he stopped trying to hold back and just gave the training his all, focusing in on the areas he still lacked in, with fervor and passion...

~O~

  
“I am told you are the equal of some of our finest already, is it true?” Ezio’s voice behind him caused him to jump even though he knew the man was there. The bowstring flew from his fingers, releasing the arrow prematurely. He put a hand above his eyes to block what sunlight made it past his hood as he watched the arrow sail well over the target, embedding itself in the dirt down range.  
  
“I may need work on my archery...” He deadpanned and Ezio laughed, coming up to stand beside him.  
  
“Is that so?” There was amusement and a hint of something intriguing in the Master’s voice which caused  _Vittorio_  to turn and regard him with a sidelong glance. He had not been so close to Ezio for some time, the Master Assassin having been away battling the French with Bartolomeo among other things which demanded his attention at nearly all times.  _Vittorio_  was rather flattered that the Maestro had taken time to seek him out on a range, far afield in the countryside.  
  
“Have you come to test me, Maestro?” He smirked, nocking another arrow and drawing down, this time allowing no distraction. His shot split the stuffed man’s burlap face along its left side at about eye level and was rapidly followed with another shot to the right.  
  
He turned to the sound of slow applause. The Maestro had dropped his half cape over a olive tree branch and settled into a nearby hay pile in the shade, his hood pulled low, though he still appraised  _Vittorio_  with glittering dark eyes.  
  
“No. I have come only to observe you.” The Maestro’s scarred lips curled in what appeared to be deliberate invitation and  _Vittorio_  felt a sweet pang of arousal stir in his belly; a tensing in his thighs but he did not let his reaction show, other than the flushing in his cheeks which he could not control. Truly he did not wish to misinterpret the man’s intentions. Knowing that even if Ezio was interested in him, he could probably not hope for anything more than a fleeting encounter or two with the man... Ezio was quite well known for more than just his skill at killing.  
  
The thought did not bother him for some reason... Ezio was just too big; larger than legend; a man so known, so important that he could not be claimed, least of all by a ex-Templar spy, hiding in the midst of his former enemies, living their dreams which he had made as his own with deception...  
  
Instead of dwelling too long on this,  _Vittorio_  smiled and drew another arrow from his quiver, sending it into the target’s chest without looking, knowing the angle of his body and the distance to the dummy, he kept his eyes on Ezio, watching his reaction.  
  
“You are indeed a fine archer. Marco’s praise of you is well deserved.” He patted the straw pile and beckoned with his un-gloved hand.  _Vittorio_  laid his bow and quiver aside and moved toward him, allowing his hips to sway the barest bit as he approached his Master. Of course he knew what he was doing. It had become fixed in his mind to seduce Ezio, although from the look of things there would be little challenge in it.  
  
 _Vittorio_  thought that suited him fine.  
  
The hay pile did look inviting, even apart from Ezio reclining in it. The olive trees overhead provided a comparatively cool place to rest, shady and dappled. After the heat out on the open archery range  _Vittorio_  could have done with a rest. The high afternoon sun was blazing nearly too intensely to bear, even as a form of endurance training. At any rate his arms were tired. He had been here, riddling dummies with arrows since dawn and it was time for a meal... or at the very least a bit of bread and wine.  
  
And almost as if he had wished it, there was a skin of watered wine pressed into his hands and he took it gratefully. Only now that he had come into the shade did he realize how sweltering it had been in the full sun. He drank and grimaced at the slightly acidic flavor but it was at least refreshing if not cool. Handing the vessel back, he allowed himself to fall unceremoniously into the hay beside the Maestro, groaning as he rolled onto his back to gaze up through the shifting leaves for a glimpse of blue sky and fluffy clouds which passed lazily overhead. At times and especially on days like this  _Vittorio_  could almost believe he had never been anything other than an Assassin, memories of his former life becoming far away and indistinct, despite having so recently been formed; like a troubling dream, disturbing... but indescribable, moments after waking.  
  
A mere three weeks may have passed since he had come to the Brotherhood and only a week more since he had awoken at Gallo but a month could constitute a lifetime to the resurrected...  
  
“It occurs to me that you might not have needed saving... that day.” It was a soft murmur, almost lost to the rustling olive leaves and the cries of birds overhead, but _Vittorio_  lifted his head and glanced over, raising an eyebrow. The Maestro was not looking his way. He was watching an eagle circle overhead, tracking it between the shifting olive leaves.  
  
“I was outnumbered and injured. I did not relish the thought of a sword in my gut any more than a swim in the Tiber. He shuddered involuntarily. He was not looking forward to his Leap of Faith but he would have to bear it when the time came... It was far away though, to his mind.  
  
If Ezio heard his explanation, he made no sign, only continuing to watch the sky. “You could take The Leap soon...” the Maestro offered suddenly, seeming to pick his thoughts right out of the air, causing Vittorio to sit up straight in the hay, gaping at him.  
  
“Surely it is too soon! I could not possibly go before even Marco...” _Vittorio_ was honestly incredulous. It had only been three weeks! He was not ready! He still did not understand! He was a liar; a fraud; a spy... but also he was a Brother; an Assassin; a follower of The Creed... was he not?  _Vittorio_  held his breath as Ezio continued.  
  
“You are Marco’s equal after three weeks in our Order...” The Maestro sat up also and turned his body to face  _Vittorio_ , his mouth set and eyes serious. “You have shown our best thief where she keeps her own coin pouch... Who are you Vittorio...? Where did you come from and why did it take us so long to find you?”  
  
Oh, the answers he could provide to those loaded questions... but truth was subjective by their own Creed so perhaps he could tell Ezio... Perhaps he could tell the truth, just not the whole of it.  
  
He finally let his breath out in a slow sigh, pulling his hood back up and tugging it low to shade his eyes before beginning. “For a long time I made my way as a thief.” _Vittorio_ dropped his gaze down to the side, where he was suddenly twirling one of Ezio’s own throwing knives between his fingers, laughing lowly when the Maestro growled a surprised curse. “I am still one, it seems...” He flipped the knife over to palm the flat handle and then sent it flying into the target dummy, missing a vital hit because of the great distance and his low angle but sinking the blade into the stuffed man’s burlap thigh just to the left of its nonexistent family jewels. “I have been a mercenary and a messenger and a brigand...I am not proud of much of it, if you must know...” He turned back to face Ezio again. “You found me between jobs fortunately... I had almost decided to leave Roma behind.” He paused, considering. “Si, I considered leaving Roma but after my rescue I believed I would rather stay and save her, as an Assassin... My skills are considerable and that is not just boasting, as you know, but I do not believe I am yet ready to take the Leap of Faith, Maestro. I would request more time in which to train and study. I can be a better Assassin than this. Before I am branded I would like to be a better Assassin.”  
  
As Vittorio finished, Ezio once more wore that bemused expression he had seen his first night on Tiber Island, when he had demonstrated his combat skill, eyebrows raised and mouth curled in incredulity. “You will have what you wish then. I had just assumed you would want to proceed with promotion, as you are clearly a match for our best and most seasoned Apprentices and even a few of our Masters... However, I cannot very well promote you against your will, Apprentice...” Ezio teased.  
  
“Oh it is back to  _Apprentice_  now because I have refused?”  _Vittorio_  smirked, narrowing his eyes playfully.  
  
Ezio leaned in slightly as he spoke, bringing their noses inches apart as he studied  _Vittorio’s_  face intently. “I would approve your Leap as you stand today and that is not just flattery, as you know... Vittorio.”  
  
“Forgive me Maestro...” He placated, lowering his eyes in flirtatious abashment even though Ezio was now smirking as well.” He blinked slowly, gazing up through his eyelashes to look over Ezio’s face beneath his hood; proud nose; full lips, scarred at the right; deep brown eyes; a neatly trimmed beard and beneath that an enticing plunge of throat and clavicle. His robes seemed designed to draw the eye down and _Vittorio_  allowed it to work on him, following the path of the Maestro’s open ruffled collar to the point where it dived into the even more open collar of his heavy tunic, white on red on white... His impressive stature was made even more imposing by the ornate brace at his middle.  
  
“You do not act as the other apprentices, Vittorio...” The amusement in Ezio’s voice was undercut with something like guilty desire. “You do not pull your eyes from me when I catch you staring, like the others do... It seems almost as if you wish for me to notice you watching me.” The Maestro’s voice was lowered, almost purring now.  
  
Yes,  _Vittorio_ very much liked the lust in that voice.  
  
“Perhaps I do...Maestro.” Moving in a fraction of an inch closer,  _Vittorio_  tilted his head minutely, still holding Ezio’s eyes, wetting his lips and letting his mouth remain just parted afterwards, blatantly inviting. Ezio did not draw away, his eyes leaving  _Vittorio’s_  to look instead with dilated pupils, at his moistened lips, tense and still for a long moment.  
  
And it was Ezio who finally broke and moved in, diving to mesh their mouths as if he wished to hurry before his conscience and sense of propriety realized what his body had gotten up to whilst they were not paying attention.  _Vittorio_  let him rush; let him push; let Ezio claim his mouth with deep, hungry strokes of his tongue. It was strong. Everything about the Maestro was forceful and hard for a moment but then he softened, turning delicate and  _Vittorio_  did not need to calculate his responses because Ezio was just as good as his reputation would lead one to believe. He slowly fell back into the hay and Ezio followed him down, shifting over-top of him and planting a hard thigh between his own; rocking it against him.  _Vittorio_  bit his lip and moaned like a whore for the Maestro but his sounds of pleasure seemed to bring the man back to himself and he pulled off slightly, breathing hard, his eyebrows knit in clear conflict.  
  
“This- this is not... a good idea...” The words were strained, the voice tight, the breath of it humid against his lips.  _Vittorio_  smirked and pressed upward again, meeting resistance but only briefly. The scarred lips parted with a soft curse and he slid their mouths more solidly together, only barely dipping in to taste him again before pulling back just far enough to speak.  
  
“Oh?” He slid his hands down Ezio’s back, giving up finding any area which was not armored or layered with clothing; instead just twisting his fingers into the cloth and dragging the other closer, relishing the way Ezio’s brow knit and his eyes narrowed; the way he exhaled, slowly through his nose, as if he was only  _just_  restraining himself. It made Vittorio’s body hum with desire, a hot flush racing over his skin and a spike of anticipatory pleasure lancing through his core. “Why is that...?”  
  
“I- I am...” Ezio hesitated, seeming to consider which item on his list of reasons they should not be doing this was most important and _Vittorio_ chuckled darkly.  
  
“You are what? Maestro of the Assassin Order? The legendary Ezio Auditore da Firenze? My Superior?”  _Vittorio_  smirked wider as he spoke because Ezio did not withdraw from him despite protesting the appropriateness of their actions.  
  
“I must be twice your age...” Ezio muttered, lowering his eyebrows and looking off to the side in what appeared to be vague disgruntlement at having just admitted that. “And Niccolò still leads The Order, not I...” He added rather petulantly.  
  
 _Vittorio_  laughed, pulling the older man in by the hips and dragging his mouth all along the densely bearded jaw that was now turned to him, breath whispering against Ezio’s ear, inside his hood. “Then you must pretend to be a younger man Maestro... although I do prefer it this way... Your age and experience is rather part of your appeal.” He nuzzled there for a moment. “And I know he does... He is very good with politics... But you are Maestro... You are the Assassino whom the Borgias fear and the oppressed citizens of Roma love.  
  
A whiskery murmur tickled his own ear. “Be that as it may, I am old enough that I could be your father...”  _Vittorio_  raised an eyebrow at that, considering his response. To placate or flirt...? He decided to flirt as the man was still atop him and in the face of all his grumbling, showed no signs of moving off.  
  
“Then it is well that I never knew one, so I cannot say if you resemble him...” He smirked as Ezio drew back to regard him seriously, appearing to measure his features as if actually concerned he might have have been  _Vittorio’s_  sire.  
  
Rolling his eyes- hazel, not brown-  _Vittorio_  dropped his head back into the pillowing straw, his hair- black, not chestnut- pooling over and around his fallen white hood, having come undone from its tie. He observed Ezio’s eyes travel over his face, studying his nose- smaller and more rounded; his more pointed chin and steeper jaw; his higher cheekbones and-   
  
“You are not my father, of that I am certain.” He dragged the other down with arms around the back of his neck and with only the barest hesitation Ezio closed his eyes and dipped his head and they fell together again, kissing with open hunger.  
  
When Ezio shifted over him,  _Vittorio_  allowed the older man to settle between his thighs, raising his knees to grip the other’s armored flanks, wondering if there was even a possibility of getting to skin. They were alone out here. The abandoned farm was miles from anywhere, owned by a supporter of the Assassin Order and used as a training area as it was nicely masked at the center of a vast orchard of ancient olive trees which resembled more a wild forested area than a piece of cultivated land. They could take their time with each other out here under the green boughs, with the soft hay pile for their bed and the warm dappled sunlight painting their bare flesh golden. There was a pond not far from the old stone farmhouse where they could bathe afterward if it came to that...  
  
Even if it did not, it mattered little.  
  
He knew Ezio was more than just interested and even if they for some reason separated now, unsatisfied,  _Vittorio_  was confident he would have no trouble enticing the man to again want him. Furthermore he was certain that he could make Ezio seek him out... he might even evade the man for a while... to increase the tension and desire.  _Vittorio_  was a patient man, he could wait as long as it would take; press any opportunity to taunt and tease... He was good at it. Briefly  _Vittorio_  thought of Teodor, but the pain of it clenched at his heart so he squeezed his eyes shut and pushed it down, redoubling his efforts upon Ezio and working fingers under the worn leather of his Master’s brace belt, tugging it away when the buckle slid free. Ezio shifted to allow it to be removed but did not break their embrace and once it was out of the way they fit back together seamlessly.  _Vittorio_  lifted his hips shamelessly, shuddering in pleasure as Ezio responded by slamming his own down and grinding forward roughly. _Vittorio_  had begun to ache exquisitely with want and Ezio was solid and strong above him and against him. He could feel the heat of his Master’s arousal now, the rigidity of it through the layers of Ezio’s ornate clothing. His own robes were simple in comparison to the Maestro’s and even he felt stifled by them; dizzy with the warmth of the day and the blood pounding through his veins, the tremor through his thighs and belly like a heat-shimmer in his nerves; the crackle of energy between them as of summer lightning...  
  
 _Vittorio_  heard the approaching hoof-beats first, pulling away from Ezio’s hot mouth with a groan of aggravation which the Maestro echoed as then a high whistle sounded through the trees. The signal that the person arriving was a Brother of the Creed and need not be filled with arrows. They drew away from each other quickly and guiltily, standing to right their clothing before whoever was arriving rounded the blind corner at the end of the range. However, they still stood very close as they each helped the other become rapidly presentable.  _Vittorio_  retrieved his bow and quiver stiffly, his manhood still hard and aching in his striped breeches, and Ezio looked equally uncomfortable, affixing his half cape and brushing hay from his knees.  
  
Presently the rider came into view and  _Vittorio_  stepped a pace away from Ezio, catching the man’s eye briefly and smirking despite his unfulfilled want. The smouldering look he received in return made him flush with renewed desire.  
  
There was a promise in that gaze.  
  
Vittorio smiled as they watched the approach of the horseman, seeing that it was in fact two people, Francesco had young Giovanni before him in the saddle, dressed in a scaled down version of their apprentice garb, minus the hooded cowl. Giovanni jumped from the saddle as Francesco brought his mount up beside them and Ezio easily caught the boy. Swinging him around once to his laughing delight before gently setting him on his feet. Giovanni then ran to  _Vittorio_  and tugged at his bird-tailed tunic. He ruffled the boy’s hair and handed him a small pouch of honeyed walnuts from his belt.  
  
He could wait for Ezio...

 

 

~O~


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vittorio and Teodor meet at dusk for a conversation about loyalties

 

Chapter warnings: angst, emotion, comfort, sex

 

There was a placard hanging on the Pasquino.  
  
It was pure chance that he happened to spy it when passing by on the roof across from the triangular corner against which the statue sat. Now he could see it clearly from his perch across the piazza. Not that it was unusual to see notices hung upon the Pasquino but this placard was a very specific color... and bore a very specific symbol. It was not Fiora’s hand but a bolder heavier one. A man would have penned it... but not Cesare, he did not use the code himself. He always had Fiora summon Il Lupo for him. There was reasonably only one person it could have been from; the only man still within the Templar Order who knew he was alive.  
  
 _Vittorio_  scouted the area thoroughly, peering into all the alleys and scrutinizing the statue from all available angles to be sure it was not under surveillance before dropping to the street in a blind alcove and then blending in with a group headed his way. As they passed the statue,  _Vittorio_  took the notice and tucked it into his sash, making for the rooftops as soon as he was around the next corner, making certain he was not followed as he took to the high places and ran for a few minutes just to feel the wind.  
  
The symbol was inaccurate; as if the person who had made it had not been familiar with the code and had been forced to guess from an incomplete key... A key that may have been damaged in a fire... Baltasar was dead,  _Vittorio_  knew that and he also knew that the Barber's former lair was a burnt shell, unsecured and open to the street. Who knew what still remained inside? For someone with the motivation to look, there might have been one or two useful things...  
  
The symbol however, was clear enough in meaning to  _Vittorio_. Someone wished to meet with him at the Colle Palatino at dusk but he did not know how long the placard had hung upon the Pasquino before he had happened by. It had to have been Teodor who left it. There was no other possibility. Baltasar’s code key must have made its way into his possession after the Barber’s death because Teodor was never privy to it. Perhaps he had questioned Fiora at some point before she also vanished...  
  
 _Vittorio_  decided, with a nervous tingle slowly creeping up his back, that he would go to the meeting place with the hope that it was perhaps not too late; that perhaps his fortune could hold out for this. If Teodor wished to still speak with him, even knowing that he had turned, then it was either a trap or it was a gesture that he would be a fool to rebuff. If the symbol was old then he would meet no one but if it had been placed that day... Teodor...  _Vittorio_ strongly wished to explain to the man his sudden shift in allegiance.  
  
On the night  _Vittorio_  had fled Tiber Island following his near disaster with young Giovanni Borgia, he had sat up late into the night at  _Gallo_  talking and finishing a bottle of Grappa with Roberto. Unable to really speak openly of his problems, he had taken comfort nonetheless in simply exchanging pleasantries with the old man. He was so grandfatherly that just being with him,  _Vittorio_  could almost imagine what having a grandfather might have been like. Roberto cared about his well being and health; asked if he was happy in his new calling.  
  
When asked what he knew of the Brotherhood, the old innkeeper admitted to having a younger brother who was a supporter; apologized for having drawn steel on him in the hall, explaining that his old eyes weren’t what they used to be and the comparative darkness had prevented him from identifying  _Vittorio_  as an one of the Brotherhood’s Apprentices.  
  
 _Vittorio_ had just waved his contrition off with a smile, feeling light and happy from the Grappa and the familial companionship.  
  
He had dreamed of Teodor that night in his room at  _Gallo_. It had begun much as the scene had played out earlier in the day... with ethereal golden light... his drop from the roof to embed his hidden blade in an armored man’s neck- but slow, like descending through honey- his murmured words to the fallen echoing in the stillness following death. Then-  
  
 _Teodor._  
  
But instead of turning away as he had in reality, the Officer had flown at him, enraged and wielding his long Epieu, eyes fierce and sad.  
  
He had been forced to meet Teodor’s strike with his extended hidden blade and the clash had been tinny but deafening; Teodor’s hurt and angry face, close enough to have felt breath... and then they had been against the wall as it had happened during their first meeting, chilly and dim and dank... underground. The stone wall firm and rough against his back and Teodor before him, hard against him; forcing him onto tip-toe with his ardor...  
  
In his dream their kiss had held such passion that  _Vittorio_  had moaned aloud in his sleep and awoken himself to find the bedsheets twisted about his limbs; his hair sweat-damp and hips unconsciously rutting against the mattress. He had rolled over in bed and finished himself off in a few strokes, shuddering guiltily as he bit his lip to keep silent...  
  
He would have been lying if he tried to claim he felt nothing for the man, but he was under no romantic illusions either. It was largely about loneliness and physical need for both of them.  
  
Still he missed Teodor and wished to at least see him once more, if only to properly say goodbye; to try to explain...  
  
By dusk he had already been in position for an hour, possibly more. He had made a full circuit of the Colle Palatino seeing only a few thieves and no Borgia agents lurking anywhere nearby. He had made certain to remain unseen as he perched with a good view of the area and waited.  
  
When the sun dipped below the horizon and the light turned to orange and carmine and blood,  _Vittorio_  heard hoof-beats and stood, still carefully concealed, to watch the rider approach...  
  
Teodor, on his favorite ink-black mare...  
  
The Officer dismounted smoothly and then pulled the bridle from his mount’s head, turning her free to graze with a light slap to the rump. Vittorio observed Teodor as he watched her amble down the hill in the last red rays of sunlight  
  
“So you have come...” Teodor spoke quietly, not turning around when  _Vittorio_ dropped from his high perch to land silently behind him.  
  
“I have.”  _Vittorio_  did not approach, still ready to turn and run at the first sign of threat. If Teodor meant to betray him then he might expect archers but he had seen no one near and indeed they did seem to be alone at the Colle Palatino. The ambiance deepened to grape and russet and amber; the last of the day’s light finally fading and casting them into cool, blue shadow.  
  
“I have told no one that you live, Lupo....”  _Vittorio's_  chest tightened at the use of his old name. It being, but for his connection to Teodor, almost as if it had belonged to an entirely different man; truly another life. He strongly wished to embrace Teodor; to grip his proud shoulders and bring their mouths together but he did not move and he did not speak and Teodor did not turn to face him. The Officer watched his beautiful horse move out on the slope. “Cesare believes you were murdered by Fiora’s hand.”  
  
“I was.” He was unsure if it was the right reply and when Teodor spun on his heel to face him finally, the anger on his face made it quite clear that it had not been.  
  
“Well, if that is the case, then death would seem to be a far more temporary inconvenience for you than it is for others!” Teodor's furious face angered him in turn and he ground his teeth.  
  
“I was saved! Revived from the brink of death! Only by grace or fate or luck do I stand here!" He bit back harshly, squaring his shoulders in defiance. As Il Lupo he would have most likely remained silent and unresponsive to such anger, almost completely uninvolved emotionally in his own life. Il Lupo had been a man in a box; a trained dog on a chain. It had taken death and resurrection for him to realize how trapped he had been.  _Vittorio_... cared about more than just the next payment or the next meal or the next chance for pleasure. He cared and wished others to know it.  
  
Teodor appeared suitably taken aback by his outburst and closed his mouth which seemed to have been set to shout at  _Vittorio_  again. He set his jaw but his eyebrows relaxed slightly.  _Vittorio_  clenched his fists at his sides.  
  
“You let me believe you dead... ” The Officer's face remained stoic, the only display of his emotion now being the tightening of his gloved hand on the bridle he still held, the leather creaking in his grasp. “Would you have continued to allow me to think so, had I not seen you that day?”  
  
 _Vittorio_  could no longer stand to hold his distance, rushing forward suddenly to grip Teodor by the upper arms, digging his fingers into the leather and giving him a shake to force the man to again meet his eyes.  
  
“Fiora summoned me to the docks, then poisoned me and dumped me in the Tiber! I had seen the others begin to fall around me but I heeded not that warning... and then my time came. When Fiora attacked me I believed she had been sent by Cesare to kill me although I could not understand why...” He paused, stricken; trying to find a way to explain how his brush with death had affected him; how Dottore and Roberto had begun to change his heart and open his eyes; how because of the Brotherhood he had infiltrated out of obsessive curiosity, he was now closer to whole than he had ever been; how he was no longer Il Lupo... But he simply could not find the words...  
  
“I could not return to the Templars... How could I return? As far as I knew my name had been turned ashes...” Vittorio took a deep breath to calm himself, his heart hammering in his chest, ears ringing. “But when I saw the symbol on the Pasquino, Teodor, I knew it was you... I would not have shown myself here for any other but you... I have learned much in my short time within the Brotherhood... Per favore Teodor, the Borgia are poison to Roma and to all of Italia. Cesare is mad... Leave the Templars before it is too late. I could not bear to see you harmed but the war is not going to end well for Cesare... nor for any who remain by him. I... I make no apologies for my change of allegiance and I regret nothing save for hurting you. Mi dispiace Teodor...”  
  
By the time he finished, his forehead ground against Teodor’s chest and there were tears choking him but he did not care.  
  
When Teodor again spoke his voice was soft. “Do you think I do not know he is mad?”  _Vittorio_  looked up at him with a streaked face and red eyes as Teodor continued, his own eyes also glimmering wetly in the starlight. “I have eyes and ears as well. His five year old son has gone missing... Do you know what he does? He dallies with his repulsive sister and plots against his even more repulsive father.” Teodor shook his head, clenching his jaw and squeezing his eyes shut. “Does it not seem odd that I have not given you up to the Templars, Lupo? Would you think me the type of man to steal and break a code from the burnt out lair of a mad Barber in order to call you to me, only to berate you for your choices? I see and hear much Lupo... Would you not think I could be of greater assistance to the Assassini if I remained close to Cesare?”  
  
Teodor then kissed him sweetly, softly murmuring against his lips that he was sorry for the way he had reacted to seeing Il Lupo's defection; expressed understanding and even approval at the changes he had undergone.  _Vittorio_  was nearly too stunned to respond but he recovered enough to throw his arms around Teodor's shoulders and pull himself up to crush their mouths together before drawing back just long enough to say-  
  
"I am  _Vittorio_  now. Call me  _Vittorio_."  
  
But they were forced apart all too quickly; the sound of raucous laughter and voices approaching from lower down on the pitched field and Vittorio whispered to Teodor before backing up from him a pace, the smirking confidence left from Il Lupo coloring his demeanor and a wide grin splitting his shadowed face. Teodor nodded, smiling also and then Vittorio disappeared into the night like the ghost he supposedly was and Teodor whistled for his horse.  
  
They met later by agreement at the stables and in the tack room he allowed Teodor to have him over a sturdy, wooden saddle rack; Vittorio’s layered, split-tail tunics bunched up over his back and their breeches pushed down just far enough for access and it was so  _good_  like that, after his interrupted encounter with Ezio the day before, _Vittorio_  was feeling perhaps a bit pent up, as well as emotionally raw, both from confronting Teodor and from having been accepted. He clawed furrows into the polished leather surface of the saddle which he was bent over, initially biting his lip against crying out when he was breached with fingers coated in mallow liniment but _Vittorio_  grew impatient with such light touches within moments, begging openly; shamelessly for Teodor to hurry.  
  
“You have not learned any more patience for this...? How can you listen through a wall for hours, to the most inane and boring conversations with only the smallest chance that you will hear something interesting or useful, but be unwilling bear my fingers for more than a few moments? I do not wish to harm you...” Teodor muttered behind him.  
 __  
Vittorio had been unable to offer comment and instead simply moaned brokenly as Teodor quite deliberately stroked him inside in just the right way, leaning over him to take his hood down, breaking the ribbon which tied _Vittorio’s_  hair, letting it free and brushing it over to one side, with fingers still working him open gently as he slid his other hand, still gloved, from  _Vittorio’s_  hair down over his shoulder, trailing silkily along his ribs to make him tense and shiver; slipping down and under to just brush leather covered fingertips over his flat belly, forcing a kind desperate ticklish laugh from him. Then Teodor’s hand became firm and moved deliberately back beneath his tunics and across his heaving chest to draw  _Vittorio_  up against him until they were flush, kissing the side of the his neck and jaw.  _Vittorio_  turned his head to offer his lips and Teodor hungrily claimed them, swallowing the pitched cry of shock and desire which tore from him as he strained to accommodate the Officer’s girth.  
  
It was long since they had last been intimate and Vittorio had been quite busy with his training since defecting to the Brotherhood. The brief tease with Ezio had been his only recent contact of any kind but unaccustomed as he was to the stretch of having something so large inside him he still grit his teeth and pushed back onto Teodor as the man began to rock into him in earnest. Truly, it hurt a bit at first but Vittorio could not care. The slight pinch of it being minor, nearly nonexistent compared to the ache of his ardent want. Teodor was exactly what  _Vittorio_  needed just then and from the urgent snap of the Officer’s hips; his harsh panting against  _Vittorio’s_  shoulder when their lips fell away from one another, he could tell the other felt similarly desperate.  
  
 _Vittorio_  dropped his forehead against the saddle, shoulders hunched and back bowed. He raised his hips and gave himself to Teodor with abandon and Teodor took him with fervor, each roll of the Officer’s hips forcing a breathy “ah” or an incomplete curse from him until his thighs began to tense and tremble, his core molten with lust. He only needed his hand for a moment as Teodor slammed in more roughly, making him grind his teeth but it was so good and Teodor was so hot against him, so firm at his back and so hard inside his body and when the man moaned breathily against his ear-  
  
“Vittorio...”  
  
He came with a startled cry, eyes wide and mouth agape, flooding out over his own fingers and the tack room floor. Teodor’s grip on him tightened and the hard length which filled him swelled and twitched.  _Vittorio_  realized Teodor was going to try to withdraw before he could spill so he threw an arm back, gripping whatever clothing he could twist his fingers into, holding Teodor in place as he at first tried to resist but then cursed fluently, tensing hard before finally shuddering through his release inside _Vittorio_  with another soft moan of his new name which sounded much more guilty than the first.  
  
After they cleaned themselves and the tack room of the evidence of their passion, they reclined for a while upon Teodor’s long-coat atop a soft pile of fresh straw in the loft, the double loading doors open to the warm breeze and the starry sky. They spoke of Teodor’s role in supporting the Assassins and how they would communicate to avoid being caught by either side, at least until  _Vittorio_  could think of a way to explain to Ezio and Niccolò how he was acquainted with a Templar, furthermore an Officer close to Cesare...  
  
They parted before midnight with a grasping of hands and a brief kiss, Teodor moving back down into the stable to finally groom and feed his impatient horse and _Vittorio_  leaving discreetly by the loft door and quickly vanishing into the dark.

 

 

~O~


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco is a shameless flirt. Vittorio makes an important decision.

 

 

 

Chapter Warnings: None really... some shameless flirting, uh... erections? references to past sexual relationships, emotional ambiguity.

 

 

 

  
Marco was waiting at the edge of the lower roof when he returned to Tiber Island.  
  
“Oh my... such a  _bad_  boy... staying out so late...” The masked man grinned with his dark eyes and offered a hand down which  _Vittorio_ grasped, getting a foot up over the roof edge as Marco hauled him up the last few feet, the gesture unnecessary but appreciated all the same.  
  
“I was unaware of a curfew.” He smirked back, raising an amused eyebrow when Marco did not release his hand as he hopped down off the wall but continued to draw him forward until they were flush against each other, throwing his other arm around _Vittorio’s_  back and pulling him into a tight hug.  _Vittorio_  could detect the scent of wine on him and smiled, pulling his own arms around the man and accepting his tipsy affection. However, Marco was still steady on his feet and spoke normally so he could not have been very impaired... But he did not let go, instead turning his masked face against  _Vittorio’s_  cowled neck and inhaling his scent through his clothing.  
  
“Mmmm... You  _have_  been busy...” He murmured and  _Vittorio_ flushed with embarrassment at his words but also shivered with an involuntary thrill of arousal when the masked man’s lips hummed against his ear through is hood. Marco released _Vittorio’s_  hand and instead gripped his chin with thumb and forefinger to tilt his head, bending to inhale the scent off his neck over the area where Teodor had wetly kissed him as they coupled.  _Vittorio’s_  mouth fell open, about to protest; feeling a bit guilty that he was becoming aroused by this attention after having so recently been with Teodor but before he could say anything Marco continued, sliding back up his body sinuously to bring their faces almost nose to nose, then leaning in, head tilting subtly to sample the scent off his parted lips and  _Vittorio_ shivered in the taller man’s arms, blinking slowly and drawing shallow rapid breaths as Marco continued to murmur-  
  
“Mmmm... no face powder... no lip paint... no fragrance. perhaps a man...?" He inhaled again. "Mmm... _si_....a man... and leather... and horse... and hay... and... altea ointment? Ahh.. si  _si_....”  _Vittorio_  had to chuckle in embarrassed bemusement. With such a cunning, deductive mind and extraordinary senses, Marco was a dangerous Assassin indeed.  
  
“Merda...  _Enough_... You are much too adept at that... I can scent only  _vino_  on you,  _a-mi-co_... Does it please you so much that I was with a man?” The masked Apprentice’s covered mouth and nose were still so close to his that when  _Vittorio_ spoke, his lips brushed the thin white fabric of Marco’s mask and the man made a small noise in his throat, his long dark eyelashes fluttering as he brushed his cloth covered mouth over  _Vittorio’s_  with slightly more intent.  
  
“It does.” Marco’s low reply buzzed against  _Vittorio’s_  lips and he released a short huff of laughter, both amused and aroused by the masked man’s forwardness. Not that Marco had ever demonstrated much restraint around  _Vittorio_ , since they had been paired for his training. This type of behavior came as no real shock.  
  
They were both hard by this point and Vittorio was feeling even more guilty about it... but guilt could not stop his hips from beginning to twitch, pressed too lightly against Marco to really gain much pressure or friction, but the masked Apprentice held him in place with a hand around the small of his back, kneading fingertips into the flesh there.  
  
“ _Clearly_... But what of my lover’s feelings?”  _Vittorio_  teased, licking at the dip in Marco’s mask which moved in and out with his light panting, smirking as the other groaned, he was getting the upper hand slowly, beginning to press the taller man; stepping him back until they came up against the wall beside the pigeon loft and Marco’s back met the cool stones. The light impact forced a soft huff from him, followed by a deep groan when _Vittorio_  ground against him.  
  
Ahh... that depends... is it one of our Brothers or someone from outside?” Marco tilted his chin down and _Vittorio_  brought his up; maintaining the minuscule distance between their lips; keeping their eyes locked together.  _Vittorio_ could almost feel the curl of the other’s playful grin behind the mask and breathed in sharply; gripping Marco’s shoulders when the man raised both hands to grasp each side of  _Vittorio’s_ hooded cowl, yanking him just that much closer.  
  
”How could I divulge such a thing... and remain a gentleman?”  _Vittorio_  smirked and Marco rolled his expressive eyes.  
  
“You are  _no_  kind of gentleman...” The masked man quipped.  
  
 _Vittorio_  snorted. “Unsurprisingly, neither are you...”  
  
And just when it seemed as if Marco was going to attempt to ravage his mouth right through his own gauzy mask the man laughed, shifting against the stone wall and dropping his forehead to rest upon _Vittorio’s_  shoulder, his hands falling away to his sides.  
  
“You are  _very_  good amico...” Marco muttered into the cloth of his cowl. “I believe that with very little further encouragement, I would allow you to do whatever you wished to me.”  
  
 _Vittorio_  considered Marco’s offer. It would be nice to have someone more accessible than Teodor or Ezio, who was willing and casual, and it was not as if this was the first time Marco had expressed interest in him... but they had only teased each other.  
  
Teodor had never attempted to exclusively claim Il Lupo nor had Lupo asked anything of the Officer but the connection  _Vittorio_ felt to Teodor gave him pause. While within the Templar Order, Il Lupo had been by necessity, emotionally stunted, unresponsive to deeper, more complex feelings. He knew lust and satisfaction and little else... But for Teodor there was; always had been something more... Teodor had been the only man Il Lupo had stalked out of infatuation and over time their strange, undefined relationship had slowly awoken something he had thought long dead in his heart.  
  
Still,  _Vittorio_ was unsure what to name the things he felt for Teodor and they had never spoken of it. Even after their recent reunion,  _Vittorio_ did not believe the man expected exclusivity from him...  
  
Marco wanted him, that much was clear.  
  
Also,  _Vittorio_ did not experience the same urges toward Marco as he did when with Teodor or Ezio. With them he wished to bend; to let them lead; to fall back and be taken, perhaps because they were older... Marco was two years his junior and the notions that  _Vittorio_ had entertained toward him when they had teased each other before were much different.  
  
He pressed Marco gently back upright against the wall and grasped his masked face about the chin, leaning up and into the slightly taller man to purr against his ear. “I should like to test your willingness when you have had less vino and when I have had more rest... I would not want to disappoint.” He smirked as Marco shivered against him. When  _Vittorio_ pulled away Marco slumped forward groaning, his right hand still with its three fingered archer’s glove clenching and releasing in frustration, laughing as the masked man turned and thumped his fist futilely against the side of the supply shed wall and as he then began comically rutting against it, _Vittorio_  had to clutch his sides, doubling over with even more amusement.  
  
“Come on amico... It is very late.” He drew Marco away from the wall, still chuckling and dabbing a tear of mirth from his eye as he pushed the man to climb onto the top of the shed and then followed him up as they ascended to the roof access.  
  
~O~  
  
But they did end up spending their night together, falling asleep slumped against one another on the sofa by the great fireplace in the armory, it being a quiet place in the wee hours. Eventually they shifted and nudged their bodies into a more horizontal configuration with their legs entangled and  _Vittorio_ laying nearly atop Marco with his hooded head pillowed upon the masked man’s strong chest and their arms twined about each other. They slept on peacefully until dawn when a group of other Apprentices entered the armory to claim new equipment, making a great clatter at the other end of the room.  _Vittorio_ pushed himself slowly up off the supine man beneath him, glancing at Marco’s sleepily blinking eyes before they both simultaneously tried to yawn the word-  
  
“Buongiorno...”  
  
Marco smirked behind his mask and  _Vittorio_ laughed, dropping his forehead to rest against the center of the masked man’s chest for a moment before levering himself rather reluctantly up off of him and rolling to his feet, thinking that their exchange might have gone a bit differently if they had awoken some place more private. Perhaps they could obtain leave from Machiavelli to go afield for the purpose of training  _Vittorio_ further on horsemanship and mounted archery...  
  
  
He was forced to debate the wisdom of that plan though, as he stretched and his body protested in some very specific areas. As his core muscles tensed he winced at the deep ache but his groan was not entirely one of discomfort as he also experienced a brief but intense sensory memory of Teodor’s body against him; pressing into him gently; then roughly.... He shuddered pleasantly despite the soreness in his muscles and elsewhere...  
  
Marco rose as well and followed  _Vittorio's_  example, stretching his long, lean body and peering over at  _Vittorio_ to appraise the state of his clothing, looking him up and down as  _Vittorio_ glanced at him sidelong. “You look as if you spent the night with some  _wanton_...” Marco’s dark eyes smirked over his mask and  _Vittorio_ gave him a withering look, snorting.  
  
“I believe I did...” He muttered a bit acidly but Marco only smirked more, his eyebrows raising flirtatiously so  _Vittorio_ added- “You are in no better condition, amico...” finally smirking back when Marco had to concede that he was correct.  
  
He still ended up looking himself over though, noting his rumpled breeches and tunics, suspiciously stained and scuffed; his hair still unbound and tangled inside his hood. There was some straw from the stable loft stuck down his left boot.  _Vittorio_ groaned aloud... rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. Marco was right... He needed to make himself more presentable, he was looking quite clearly debauched.  
  
“I must.. ah- I need to...” He trailed off as Marco merely nodded and made a shooing motion with his hands.  _Vittorio_ smiled gratefully and quickly excused himself, sweeping past the others hovering near the doorway. He decided to quickly visit his room at  _Gallo_ , He had eventually decided to take Roberto up on his offer of more permanent accommodations and the old innkeeper had set him up in a room which could be accessed directly off the unused, dead end alley behind the building, via its window, which the man had kindly un-grated for him. He paid by the month and Roberto had given him a very good deal. The room was larger and nicer than the one he had initially awoken in those weeks before. It had a fireplace, a larger more comfortable bed and a big basin for washing.  
  
He had in truth been a bit embarrassed the previous night, to have smelled so strongly of his activities that Marco could deduce so much of what he had been up to from just inhaling the scent off him, as arousing as it had been at the time... The Assassins found cleanliness more a virtue than perhaps the common populace did. It would not do for a target to smell his imminent death on the breeze... It was something he never could get close enough to notice while observing the movements of the Assassins as Il Lupo. But since joining the Brotherhood he had noticed...in the city everything smelled of something, be it putrid or pleasant, there was just no getting around it but inside the Assassin’s Guild headquarters it smelled of torch smoke and stone; of steel and leather but not of people. Even the women did not smell of anything. They wore no perfumes nor musks.  
  
Taught that nothing was true, the Assassins largely ignored prevailing social trends and kept themselves to an older code; training their bodies and minds to do the work they had been tasked with by the Order, keeping themselves washed and fit and healthy, mostly avoiding excesses of drink and food... It had seemed a bit monastic in  _Vittorio’s_  mind when he had first been introduced to the Brotherhood and the Creed in lessons given to him by Niccolò but the Assassins did not seem to directly serve God and indeed Ezio had even proclaimed to disbelieve the entire concept of the Creator, stating only that it was because of things he had seen and could never un-see. His views suited  _Vittorio_  just fine. Although he had been raised by the Church, his mind had always been too busy with plans to leave the foundling house. He had never heard much of a calling towards the Lord.  
  
It seemed to be more a sentiment among the ranked Assassini rather than the Apprentices as well, but if they did not have faith in God then what they did have was faith in the Creed. The Assassins would seem to serve only the common people; the men and women upon whose backs their civilization was built; the people whom those in power would do well to remember the importance of. By their faith in the wisdom and importance of humanity the Assassins made a mockery of the sallow, flaccid faith of the Holy Church with its corrupt and decadent leaders and rampant hypocrisy. As he studied he became even more openly disdainful of his former masters.  
  
He had been involved in a long discussion with Niccolò near the end of his first week with the Order and had offered a dissertation on his understanding of the Creed and the Maxim and of the Assassins themselves and what they meant to accomplish and the man had looked at him oddly when he spoke of their war with the Borgia, how they had Cesare fuming and giving even more ludicrous orders to his guards and henchmen, further proving he was a madman and unfit to lead. He became terrified that he had given himself away by divulging too much familiarity with their enemies and fought against the urge to back-track over his words, instead keeping his eyes level and letting Machiavelli’s appraising look wash over him for a protracted moment until he thought it had gone on long enough to say-  
  
“Is something the matter?” He had cocked his head and offered his best quizzical expression and Niccolò had shaken his head and said it was nothing, apparently taking his words as being a repetition of rumor or a humorous extrapolation.  _Vittorio_ had breathed a silent sigh of relief and resolved to check his tongue more carefully. He might have more opportunity to socialize and speak with others here in the Brotherhood than Il Lupo had ever had in his career of solitary spying and sneaking and killing for the Templars but that was no reason to let himself go completely native...  
  
He had been awed at the ease with which he had almost ruined himself...  
  
 _Vittorio_ rather wished to speak with the old innkeeper but he could not risk descending from his room into the tavern during the day as  _Gallo_  served the morning market goers as well as hungry workers and off duty night guards, so instead he carefully washed his body with cool water and a fresh cloth and then thoroughly washed his clothing using a piece of lye soap Roberto had provided him. Once he was satisfied and dressed in a fresh Apprentice uniform from his trunk he ascended to the roof with the load intending on laying it all out to bleach in the sun. He dared not hang it up, to flap- red and white in the morning light like a rebellion flag.  
  
Then he was off, feeling much refreshed. It was August fourteenth and  _Vittorio_  had decided something.  
  
He had decided that he was no longer a spy; no longer a pretender. It had occurred to him while doing the washing. Teodor had sought him out; had found and salvaged the ruined code key in order to have a chance at summoning him using the method Baltasar had devised; had still held affection for him and had shown him that he was missed. But Teodor had not come to find Il Lupo for revenge or purely to seek physical favors. Teodor had come to him offering to betray the Templars... for him; because of  _him_.  
  
Teodor  _trusted_  him.  
  
It had been quite a revelation and Vittorio had spent several minutes just soaking up to his elbows in murky wash water, stunned. He knew his brothers within the Assassins Guild trusted him. They had no reason not to, having only ever known _Vittorio_. Teodor on the other hand knew the sorts of things he had been ordered to do as Il Lupo but had not viewed his actions as the total of him. Teodor was very intelligent and had realized immediately that Il Lupo had been observing him for some time before approaching; had seen the higher regard in which he was held by the Prowler, when compared with others. Teodor had never shown him anything but respect and what limited affection Lupo had allowed.  
  
What he would accept from Teodor had increased gradually over time. Their first encounter had been a rapid seduction and an even more rapid, fully clothed rut against the wall of a dank cell in the Castello.  
  
Teodor had startled him that first time, reaching into his hood and he had stiffened with fear that he was going to be revealed but then it became clear that the man only meant to hold his face and kiss him.   
  
Their embrace had held quite a bit more passion than Lupo had been expecting.  
  
The next time they met, he had let Teodor take his hood down and look him full in the face and he had looked back. They had enjoyed a slow intense kiss while staring into one another’s eyes and Teodor had not flinched from his gaze, in fact Lupo had looked away first.  
  
Their third time, he had finally allowed Teodor to fully undress him and take him slowly and gently upon the Officer’s own bed. After they had finished he had been tempted to stay but had not. Although the bed was comfortable and Teodor was warm and nude and willing to have him, he had only dressed in silence, then leaped from the window ledge.  
  
And after that they had become steadily more familiar but he realized that Lupo had always been the one to leave; to break off their embrace; to smirk and narrow his eyes in a way that said he would return and then vanish; to walk away and not look back to see if Teodor was watching him depart...  
  
It was well that Il Lupo had been murdered. Teodor deserved to be treated better. He deserved to be saved from the Templars by an Assassin like  _Vittorio_. Teodor had sought him and  _Vittorio_  vowed not to fail him. If  _Vittorio_  was a work of artifice then he was a duplicate so fine it could never be revealed for the forgery it truly was, even under the closest scrutiny.  
  
He could not even see the difference himself anymore.

 

 

 

~O~

  
  
They had all gathered that evening in the Initiation Hall to witness Marco’s advancement to Assassino, standing along the hall in formation through the short ceremony and then filing out to watch him take his Leap of Faith, the circular brand fresh and angry on his finger. He looked very fine in his pure white and crimson Assassino uniform and for the first time since he had been recruited to the Brotherhood, he had showed the Order his face. His mask was gone as further proof of his dedication to the Brotherhood. He would serve The Order with pride and without concealment.  
  
 _Vittorio_ could not help smirking a little because in actual fact, he had been the first to see Marco’s face, having been cornered by the man just off the main hall earlier that afternoon. As he rounded a corner at the entrance to the armory the man had sprung upon him, pinning him to the stone wall with a hand planted to either side of his head, leaning in close and grinning behind his mask. Thinking it one of the playful, flirtatious man’s usual games he had smirked back but then Marco had taken one hand away to reach behind his left ear, inside his low drawn hood.  
  
 _Vittorio_ caught his breath as Marco’s mask fell away to the right side revealing his face..   
  
Marco’s face was not scarred. It was beautiful as  _Vittorio_  had imagined it to be, unmarred and smooth chinned with a proud straight nose and a wide mirthful smile full of very white teeth which were fetchingly crooked.   
  
“Marco... “ He could only breathe the man’s name in vague shock. Truly  _Vittorio_  did not know what to say, his friend’s face suddenly had so much more to draw the eye and  _Vittorio’s_  gaze was pulled instantly to his lips, having never seen them but for the subtle moving outlines they made as Marco spoke or smiled or laughed behind his mask. He studied them wide-eyed and Marco smirked just letting him stare. They curled up at each corner forming dimples to either side and they were full and dark as if they had been stained with  _melagrana_  juice.  
  
“Does what you see please you?” He had murmured and  _Vittorio_  had admitted that it very much did. “ _Bene_... You will see this face often from now on. I take the Leap tonight.” With that Marco had grinned brilliantly at him, leaned in and kissed him quickly but fully on the mouth before he had re-affixed his mask and sprinted off down the hall, leaving  _Vittorio_  a bit breathless and stunned.  
  
Now _Vittorio_  watched, feeling pride for Marco as he fearlessly hurled himself into space, arms flung out; a blaze of blood red on flame tinted white in the low orange rays of the setting sun. The Tiber awaited him at the bottom but  _Vittorio_  did not fear for Marco. He had witnessed that maniac leaping into the river for his own entertainment, much to  _Vittorio’s_  horror. Of course Marco had laughed off his concerns and he had felt sheepish. After all, it was not as if everyone had terrible experiences with near death by poisoning and then drowning, which they absolutely could not talk about with anyone but their  _Templar-traitor lover_.  
  
As Marco reached the apex of his leap and fell out of sight  _Vittorio_  steeled his resolve. He wanted so badly to tell Ezio he was ready; that he had changed his mind about needing more time; that he understood and would never harm the Brotherhood; that he was an Assassin... Fear of himself; that he might still be a fraud could not deter him. Fear of what revelation of his past might bring would not break his will and fear of the Tiber certainly would not hold him back.  
  
In his first week with the Brotherhood,  _Vittorio_  had thought on how he might go about betraying the Assassins. He had run through several scenarios and imagined how he might be rewarded should he bring down the Order and give Ezio to Cesare. He could return to the Templars. He would probably even be given a Title and lands... And Cesare would again command him to carry out orders to subvert the commoner’s efforts to advance themselves; to kill any who spoke out against the Borgia’s right to rule and to again haunt the dark alcoves and rafters of that decadent and incestuous family’s elaborate and unnecessary home.  
  
These considerations had left him feeling ill even at that early point in his reeducation. He knew that, should he deliver the Assassins to Cesare, he would be rewarded with many things, but that is all they would be. Things only. They could not keep his heart alive or his Self intact as it was now and maybe worst of all, Dottore would curse the oath he had taken and would wish that he had let Il Lupo die and Roberto would feel ashamed to have known him.  
  
 _No_. He would not betray the Brotherhood. Not then and not now.  
  
Not  _ever_.  
  
He had often wondered if, after he got his brand and took his Leap of Faith, that he might feel he truly was an Assassin; truly Vittorio... or, if when he finally let Il Lupo go and truly became Vittorio, that he might then be ready to Leap... It gnawed at him, especially after Ezio had expressed such belief in him on the archery range. Thinking on it had kept him awake that night. But then Teodor had found him; had accepted  _Vittorio_  and embraced him; had turned against his Templar masters and offered himself to the Assassins, taking the danger of betrayal on himself to help the Brotherhood finally finish taking down the Borgia.  
  
So now  _Vittorio_  had his answer. At this moment, watching the clouds drift by, golden and pink and crimson in the evening light, he knew who he was and he knew what he had to do.  
  
Incomplete... artificial... proud... afraid... unsure... ready.  _Vittorio_  would get his brand... and he would Leap.

 

 

 

~O~

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vittorio and Ezio return to the archery range to readdress unfinished business.

 

Chapter Warnings: ALL KINDS OF SMUT! MORE INTROSPECTION. Emotional ambiguity.

 

Scrambling down the outside of the building and slipping back inside by the street level entrance put him in position to catch Ezio's attention as he walked past, speaking with Niccolò. Ezio took a misstep as their eyes met, causing Niccolò to turn and look also and they came to a stop in the hall facing him.  _Vittorio_  inclined his head respectfully to both of them but kept his eyes locked with Ezio’s.  
  
As the moment stretched long, Niccolò looked between them with a raised eyebrow and then shook his head in knowing exasperation, making to leave but as he turned, Ezio reached out and grasped his arm, drawing him back to briefly mutter something lowly into his ear. Niccolò nodded after a moment and was released. He smirked at _Vittorio_  before moving off down the hall with his hands clasped loosely behind his back.  
  
Once they were alone Ezio took a step toward him.“It is odd seeing Marco’s whole face again after all this time.” His tone was conversational but with Ezio there seemed always to be an  _edge_  of something hidden in his voice, like a blade you might never see... and feel only briefly..  
  
“No more odd than it must be for him to be without his mask after nearly a year.” _Vittorio_  replied neutrally, remaining where he was but offering a lopsided smile.  
  
“I would have thought you might be celebrating with him. There are rumors that the two of you are close...” The Maestro’s manner was offhand and teasing but the edge in his voice now sounded a bit like a challenge so  _Vittorio_  cocked his head to one side and displayed his knife-like grin.  
  
“He  _is_  a bit  _young_ for my tastes... which is not to say that I would turn him away based solely on that...” He let his wicked grin dissolve into a playful smirk, crossing his arms behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling innocently, adding- “We flirt, but that is all... as yet. He likes to tease... I like to tease too.” Ezio took another step towards his position and again  _Vittorio_  did not step to meet him, instead he leaned on the wall casually, kicking a foot back to rest against the stones and relaxed his arms, letting them fall to his sides and pressing his palms flat against the wall at his back. He kept his face in a neutral closed-lipped smile, tilting his head so that his eyes were shadowed but not invisible.  
  
Ezio cocked his head with mock-concern. “Is that all I can expect from you then? Teasing?”  
  
“No Maestro, you well know what I would allow with you.”  _Vittorio_  smirked, showing just a glint of tooth.  
  
“But not with Marco?” One more step brought Ezio to him and he leaned also against the wall but only onto one hand, planted near Vittorio’s head. Ezio was a bit taller than he anyway and  _Vittorio’s_  slouch just emphasized the difference. He looked up into the Maestro’s face, pulling his lips away from his teeth a little more and narrowing his eyes playfully  
  
“With Marco, I wish to do something subtly different that what I wish for you to do to me,  _Maestro_  and eventually I will probablyhave him, just not tonight...”  _Vittorio’s_  smirk grew as Ezio made a tiny, strange noise, finger tips curling into the stone near his head.  
  
 _Vittorio_  wondered how far Ezio might go with him here in the open hall where someone could happen past at any moment. He had never chanced to glimpse the Maestro engaged with any of the other Apprentices or the ranked Assassini or any of their agents in other guilds. The rumors of his activities were varied and colorful but just as  _Vittorio_  had done when he was Il Lupo, and had spied for the Templars, he took what he heard and filed it away for cross-reference. He never believed anything he heard outright. Everything demanded further study and consideration; demanded proof.  
  
Of course, that he had seen nothing did not mean the rumors were untrue, simply that Ezio was at least somewhat discreet and that more than likely the leaks came only from the loose tongues of those he had been with multiplied by the shameless speculators. He wondered briefly, should he entice Ezio to openly embrace him here, what reactions they might receive from passers by. Would he be the object of envy or would he just be assumed another notch on the Maestro’s bedpost?  
  
 _Vittorio_  was unsurprised to find that he did not really mind either of those things. Because of his status a something of a prodigy he was frequently the target of jealously, just as he had predicted might happen and initially attempted to avoid. The others had to respect him though, if only for the fact that he really was just that good. If they could not show him up then some would display their frustration by attempting to mock him for one thing or another; his preference for men being one, even though such things were not prohibited or even discouraged within the Brotherhood.  _Vittorio_  let these sorts of comments roll off him as Il Lupo would have. He had seen enough to know that it was the way of any organization in which ranks were issued. Those who advanced quickly were always envied by those who needed more time. The instructors had done their best to admonish and cow the more aggressive Apprentices but several sparring sessions had degenerated into all out brawls because of other recruits rushing him as he trounced one of their fellows in a what was meant to be a one-on-one fight. He had found himself dueling two or more angered Apprentices on more than one occasion and it was eventually decided, by a glowering and clearly unamused Niccolò, whilst he grasped one snarling recruit by her hood and another by his throat, that _Vittorio_  would only spar against Marco or in special cases, Ezio as they both could be trusted not to let their fight get out of hand.  
  
As for being seen as merely another conquest for the Maestro?  _Vittorio_ rather viewed it the other way around... But what did he care what the others thought of him, if he was not violating the Creed? They were all Brothers and Sisters and regardless of petty jealousies they would work as a team for the Brotherhood. Indeed many of those who had behaved badly toward him initially had come forward to apologize and excuse themselves to him for their actions. He had received all graciously and it was mostly well between them by this point, save for the pick-pocket he had schooled... Luciana. She still glared whenever she saw him. He would only smile disarmingly back at her and her cheeks would flare red and she would glare harder.  _Vittorio_ conjectured that she might have developed something of an unwilling infatuation with him and he briefly considered romancing her a bit just to see how much she actually hated him... But his fascination had never been much for women. Although he had found in his survival oriented life of thievery and brigandage before the Templars had taken him, that women were generally in possession of the most comfortable beds.  
  
In the end he had not pursued Luciana, only continued to smile and keep his distance. She would either get over her humiliation or anger or attraction or whatever it was she was feeling or she would not. He offered no apology an indeed felt no contrition for besting her.  
  
“Would you like to go somewhere... with a little more  _cover_?" _Vittorio_ asked as he finally moved off the wall, sliding forward casually. Ezio had leaned rather close to him and the action brought him to within a fraction of an inch of the Maestro as he paused and then passed, just brushing the knuckles of one hand across the other's abdomen; the touch so light it could have been accidental.  _Vittorio_  doubted Ezio could even feel it through his armor and heavy clothing but the effect was still an instantaneous and noticeable shiver; a sharp intake of breath.  
  
He smirked as Ezio caught his arm and drew him back much as he had Machiavelli only a few moments before but  _Vittorio_ doubted very much that the Maestro’s whispered words to the other man had contained the same inflection as when he muttered into Vittorio's ear and in spite of himself  _Vittorio_ felt his cheeks warm. It was no wonder Ezio had such a reputation, even if he did not actually bed everyone he talked to, it might have felt as if he had, with a voice like that which could so weaken the knees; so heat the blood; so sully the mind...  
  
With such  _innocent_  words...  
  
“Is your archery still in need of improvement?” The blade was now a curl of smoke, slow and lingering in the stillness between their breaths and a tremulous heat shivered through  _Vittorio's_  belly and up his spine as he recalled that sunny afternoon under the olive boughs several days before. It would be moonlight dappling them this time if they were to return as it seemed Ezio was suggesting but at night they could be sure no one would be there and no one would arrive to interrupt them. The evening was young and warm and being outdoors under the sky with Ezio sounded very appealing. Guiltily he recalled the actual reason he had sought the Maestro and mentally chastised himself for his lack of self control and then again for the fact that it would not make any difference.  
  
“I could use some instruction still... by starlight...” He smirked but then added more seriously, “I wished to speak with you in private anyway.” Ezio released his arm and _Vittorio_ turned again to face the Master Assassin, smiling. “Shall we meet in an hour?” At Ezio’s nod  _Vittorio_ bowed and they each departed in separate directions.  _Vittorio_ meant to be prepared for whatever might occur this time so he quickly returned to his room and obtain some supplies. He considered the night warm enough to bathe in the clear pond near the archery range so he decided to beat Ezio there by at least half an hour.  
  
After leaving  _Gallo_  it took him only a few minutes to find an unattended horse and make off with her. Once he returned to the city later he would release the animal to find her way home. Right now though she would serve to convey him to the range to meet his master.  
  
As he rode across the countryside  _Vittorio_ thought upon Ezio. He fully intended to let the Maestro have him in any way he might like.  _Vittorio_ really felt no guilt about his own desires but he did feel something nagging him in the back of his mind when he considered Ezio. He knew some of the Master Assassin's history, because of course people talked and  _Vittorio_ was always listening. They spoke in hushed tones of the conspiracy that resulted in the public hanging of his father and both of his brothers right before his eyes; how years later, Cesare had lain waste to Monteriggioni and executed Ezio’s last remaining male relative; again right before his very eyes. It was even rumored that the pistola used to kill Mario Auditore had been designed by Leonardo, the renowned artist and inventor and a person very close to Ezio and although Ezio clearly bore the Artist no ill will for aiding the Templars,  _Vittorio_ wondered if the rumors regarding the Maestro and Leonardo were true, there were so many... He wondered if Ezio knew about the nature of Leonardo and Cesare’s relationship...  
  
As if  _he_  had any business faulting someone else for duplicitously bedding persons from both sides... Also he supposed Ezio knew Leonardo had no real choice but to comply with Cesare’s demands, be they upon his mind and skill or upon his body... Leonardo, yet another excellent actor like Machiavelli... It had quite surprised  _Vittorio_ to learn that Leonardo actually worked against Cesare to aid the Assassins. He had thought the man to only work for commission and he was a little ashamed to admit it had not occurred to him that Leonardo might have been pressed into service.  
  
 _Vittorio_ realized that while he had heard much, he actually knew very little of Ezio or the people closest to him. Was  _anyone_  really close to Ezio? His eyes seemed so far away at times. A caged bird which remembers a time before its wings were clipped; a time before it even knew of scissors...  _Vittorio_ was much too intelligent to delude himself into thinking Ezio wished anything from him other than physical contact; sexual release. The man’s appetite was nearly as legendary as his skill at death-dealing and  _Vittorio_  took no issue with that. For himself it was almost fulfillment of a mission at this point; a task left unfinished which nagged at him for completion. However, he began to feel rather badly because Ezio probably did not need just another warm place to put his  _cazzo_ ; another body to use as so many said he habitually did; that he used his admirers and his friends and his supporters; used them for brief pleasurable company or for their talents at politics or money handling or engineering or fighting; used their connections and holdings and armies... Ezio was respected and adored but at the same time he was also viewed as something of a scoundrel, even among his closest allies and family members.  
  
Did they not all see how they used Ezio in return? Used his blade and his power, used his ability to make money out of practically nothing, used his stealth and athleticism and his absolute willingness to go all the way to the most ridiculous extremes in order to win? The man was so tough he was seen as nearly immortal but one real look into his eyes would resolve any further thoughts on that subject. For all their surface humor and warmth there was a desolateness in them which made  _Vittorio_ shiver in recognition.  
  
It was guilt.  
  
It was rage.  
  
It was despair.  
  
Of course Ezio sought revenge for what had been taken from him... so many things. Of course he sought the temporary relief from pain that physical pleasure brought.  _Vittorio_  could understand that all too well-  
  
for he was still doing it himself.  
  
But he could try with Ezio, to find something more than just a brief connection... Maybe he could really learn something of the man. The more he had thought on it recently, the more it had become clear to him that he had very strong feelings for Teodor, feelings he could not put into simple words.  _Vittorio_ felt deep affection for Teodor but he truly wanted to help Ezio, if only just in thanks for simply  _being there_ by chance that one day and mistakenly giving a dead Templar a second chance at living...  
  
He owed Ezio more respect than simply to lie with him for a personal tally or as a way to pass the evening. He resolved to give more than he would take with Ezio and he resolved to speak with Teodor about his feelings... soon.  
  
If he could find the courage to even name them to himself.  
  
As he approached the archery range he made the signal whistle just in case someone was there but as he expected the area was completely deserted.  _Vittorio_ hitched his stolen mount to the large tree by the hay pile so she could feed, hauling a bucket from the farm cottage to the pond and back with water for her. He then quickly divested himself of weapons and armor and undressed, leaving his folded clothing atop his boots and making again for the pond to bathe himself. It was only an hour after sunset and the air was still heated from the long hot day, the water warm as it came up around his thighs and then engulfed him to the waist. He had been nervous at first, again recalling his near death in the Tiber but this small body of crystal clear water bore little resemblance to the murky river, with fireflies drifting lazily amidst the reeds at its banks, flashing their tiny lanterns. The moon was waning from half and still bright enough to illuminate the landscape along with myriad stars glittering like jewels scattered across blue-black velvet.  
  
It was truly beautiful here and  _Vittorio_ thought suddenly that he might have been somewhat blessed to even notice it. Only because of the new life Ezio and the Brotherhood had given him; only because of his new eyes and his new heart could he see and appreciate such simple loveliness.  
  
Never, when he had been a Templar would he have ever thought the eyes of an Assassin could see so much more than death.  
  
 _Vittorio_ scrubbed his face and body with the clean water and released his hair from its ribbon, tying the satin strip about his wrist to keep it from drifting away in the placid water and soon enough he heard a high whistle from over the reeds.  
  
Presently Ezio approached the bank holding a lantern aloft and wearing none of his usual armor or colors, his simple brown breeches were already unlaced and his loose white chemise gaped to nearly his navel. The hair upon his chest and belly was dark but not terribly thick and without his hood his chestnut locks swung loose over his shoulders, shorter around his face and across his forehead. The way it fell about his face made  _Vittorio_ wish to see it wet. Ezio smiled, waving in greeting and  _Vittorio_ beckoned the Assassin to enter the water with him.  
  
 _Vittorio_ pushed his damp hair back from his face and smiled as Ezio set the lantern down on the grassy bank, kneeling to work the buckles on his boots free and then discarding his clothing haphazardly amid the tall grasses.  _Vittorio_ watched appreciatively as Ezio’s body was revealed, scarred and strong. The man was lean and muscular absolutely everywhere, his every line and angle telling the story of a man who was never at rest; who had been fighting for so long that it was practically written onto his very muscle and bone. And  _Vittorio_ had to also smirk at the ease with which the Maestro disrobed before him. Although it was the first time they would see each other unclothed, their intimacy was not cluttered by any emotion beyond lust and he did appreciate the other’s confidence. It spoke volumes of experience at least in physical matters. This time  _Vittorio_ would let it be simply that but if he somehow remained of interest after this encounter, he vowed to try to bring more life into those eyes.  
  
With no desire to further damage Ezio’s heart,  _Vittorio_ promised himself that he would at least somehow reach it.  
  
“That was not even  _close_  to an hour...”  _Vittorio_ accused with a broad grin as the man slipped into the water. He sent a small splash in Ezio’s direction as punctuation then was forced to duck low, laughing and retaliating with larger splashes as the smirking Maestro sent a huge arc of water his way with a cupped palm.  
  
Ezio scooped up a double handful of water and scrubbed his face until it all drained away down his chest and muscled abdomen.  _Vittorio_ just watched as he spilled water over his shoulders and rubbed his hands down his torso, skin now glistening in the moonlight, cast golden at all the higher points by the nearby lantern on the bank. “It seems we both had the same notion.” Ezio intoned, wetting his hair and then brushing it back with his fingers.  
  
“It was a good one indeed.”  _Vittorio_ replied, beckoning by curling his finger with an inviting smile and Ezio trod towards him, fighting the drag of the water; generating great waves around his naked thighs and hips as he moved.  _Vittorio_ laughed and pulled the larger man in as he drew near, their hands finding each other without preamble.  
  
 _Vittorio_ slid his fingers up over valleys and swells of muscle, outlining the scars from knife wounds on the man’s belly and the brutal arquebus shots on his back but he did not linger over them as he supposed Ezio was not likely as enthralled by the knitted flesh which marred his own body as  _Vittorio_ was. Although when Ezio’s fingers found the ragged scars which cut diagonally across his back from his right shoulder to his left bottom rib he had to rethink his assessment. He jerked, shuddering as those calloused fingertips stroked laterally across the long raised striations where the sensations were just not the same as they had been when his flesh there had been whole. Ezio’s fingers spread flat and stilled, questioning where his voice did not and _Vittorio_ reassured him by drawing closer and pressing his lips lightly to the smooth skin over Ezio’s right collarbone and then directly between them at the base of his throat, carding fingertips through the coarser hair over his chest.  
  
But his arms flew up about Ezio’s shoulders and he gasped in brief panic as he was walked back into slightly deeper water but it buoyed his weight, allowing Ezio to easily hoist him and he relaxed his arms, legs automatically wrapping around the Maestro’s waist. Ezio still lightly fingered the tightened, shiny flesh of his death-wound so  _Vittorio_  also returned to exploring Ezio’s scars, beginning with the one which practically defined his face, running nearly from the crease formed by his cheek, splitting the flesh of his upper lip and then continuing to a mirror image over the bottom. It terminated far down his chin and although partially obscured by his mustache and beard, it was still a major feature.  _Vittorio_ found it with his tongue, tracing the line of it from the coarse hair of his mustache down over the smoothness of his lips which parted for him to delve inside and he followed the thin line to where it faded into moist flesh.  
  
He continued pushing his tongue in and it was met eagerly by Ezio’s, the hands which fingered his scarred back sliding down to cup his buttocks, lifting and drawing him in closer. They bumped and pressed together beneath the surface; cool water and hot flesh, the whorls and eddies of heat and chill caressing them like tiny fingers and they shuddered pleasantly against each other, pushing their mouths together even more ferociously. With increasing intensity they ground against one another roughly beneath the water, their waves lapping noisily upon the sandy shore and against the overhanging grassy banks and their melody of heavy breaths and appreciative groans and encouraging murmurs became entwined with the music of insects in the tall grasses and frogs in the lilies.  
  
 _Vittorio_ let himself get dizzy with it. The night was still so warm and hypnotic with fireflies and moonlight and drifting clouds and the weightless environment of immersion eased all their motions, making them slow and graceful. The cool water flowing between their bodies made them slip against each other and where their flesh met and rubbed, delicious heat cut through the water. The skin contact created just enough friction to tease them both to throbbing, aching erectness. Ezio’s lips were hard against his now, forcefully sharing his breath and claiming him for this moment at least and  _Vittorio_ allowed it all. He could sense that Ezio wished to lead but not dominate and so he felt no trepidation about pressing back, tightening his thighs around his master’s waist and biting at his scarred lips.  
  
Their kiss broke when Ezio growled lowly, tightening his his hold on  _Vittorio_ with one strong arm around his lower back while the fingers of the other hand slipped lower. Again Ezio cupped and squeezed one of his buttocks before tracing his cleft lightly then dipping in further to intimately stroke him and the deep, nerve jangling thrill of pleasure and want he felt as Ezio touched him was undeniable. He gasped, pushing his hips back almost involuntarily, seeking more. It was wanton and whorish but _Vittorio_ was not shamed by his body’s responsiveness. He had never been one to deny his own physical desires, even when he had been Il Lupo... His increasingly complex feelings for Teodor proved that. For he and Teodor it had certainly begun with lust but it had become so much more over time, although he had tried to resist it; tried to bury it; tried to deny it...  
  
He still was.  
  
It was only raw lust which was driving Ezio at the moment and  _Vittorio_  did not mind the Maestro’s enthusiasm in the slightest, moaning against the side of the Assassin’s neck where he had pressed his face when Ezio began to rock the toughened pads of two fingers over that sensitive pucker of flesh, keeping them also pressed tightly together front to front with his other hand. It all felt so  _good_ , the cool water and Ezio’s hot skin on his, Ezio’s firm grasp holding him in place; Ezio’s fingers kneading and prodding but not yet attempting to penetrate him.  
  
 _Vittorio_  was becoming desperate for it though, panting against Ezio’s neck, torn between writhing back against the fingers which spread him and grinding forward into the hollow of the Assassin’s hip. Unable to decide and more or less pinned in place anyway he simply shuddered in Ezio’s arms.  
  
He was not in a very good position to offer much in the way of return favors but Ezio did not seem to mind this; content it appeared, to pleasure his Apprentice.  _Vittorio_ wanted more though and moaned pleadingly.  
  
The water sloshed around them as Ezio hefted him and turned for the shore.  
  
“Nghhh.. Back at the range with my gear. I have a blanket and oil...” He muttered against Ezio’s shoulder, slightly embarrassed at how easily the Assassin bore his weight as they left the buoying water. “I can walk you know, you have only made my knees weak, not completely useless." He teased and Ezio chuckled, allowing him to gain his feet. They collected Ezio’s discarded clothing and made their way back down the path to the hay pile where  _Vittorio_ spread the blanket out in the fragrant grass beneath the stars and olive boughs.  
  
As he knelt to smooth the blanket flat and stretch the corners out Ezio approached bearing his lantern and  _Vittorio’s_  pack and also dropped to his knees on the blanket, setting the lantern off to the side. Within a moment  _Vittorio_ felt Ezio’s fingers trace up his spine, making him shiver like the light breeze made his damp skin erupt in goose-flesh despite the warmth of the air. Ezio pressed against him from behind then and _Vittorio_ gasped at his heat.  
  
“I know what you likely think of me.. what you have probably heard whispered... I hope the gossip doesn’t bother you.” There was a certain hollowness to Ezio’s voice as it hummed against his ear and it brought  _Vittorio_ back a bit. He swallowed past a sudden tightening in his throat, considering his reply carefully before speaking, turning his head to catch the Maestro’s eye over his shoulder.  
  
"Ezio...you are a legend... It is the way of legends... They inspire tales which follow them... I hear much because I listen but that does not mean I believe. If merely hearing what others might say about you troubled me then I would not be here. Besides I can hardly believe every rumor I have heard of you, as many directly contradict each other...” He smiled, turning his eyes away to stare into the bright heart of Ezio’s lantern flame. “It does not matter. We all have our flaws. Certainly you are not robbing one such as I of any innocence... You worry that I would think you a scoundrel for having your pleasure with me or others? Nothing could be further from my mind. I willingly offer what you desire, and I will not hold it against you for taking it and afterwards I will not boast of what we have done. I promise you that.” By the time he finished speaking, Ezio’s forehead rested against his shoulder and the hands that were grasping his hips had come up across his chest and belly to just hold him close against the other’s body. Relief seemed to come off the Maestro in waves as his tension drained away.  _Vittorio_  was ashamed to realize he had not even noticed how bound up the man had been until he began to relax.  
  
Perhaps he instinctively knew and sought to comfort. That would have made him a very good person indeed...  _Vittorio_  rather thought it might have just been luck that he had chosen the right words. But even if he was just very good at guessing it did not change the fact that his reply had been honest and true.  
  
It was the way he felt.  
  
Ezio began shallowly rocking his hips to rub himself just between the tops of  _Vittorio's_ buttocks, over his tailbone maddeningly. “I did consider this you know. I thought long about what I would do the next time we were alone...” Ezio’s voice still sounded apologetic as his lips brushed  _Vittorio's_  ear again, sending a little tremor down his spine to further ignite the heat in his groin; the ache he felt deep inside which seemed to demand direct stimulation in order to be satisfied. This was not helping him form verbal responses and distrusting his tongue at that moment, the only reply he could offer was a low moan. It was stunning how quickly a man like Ezio could reduce him to near incoherency but with effort he was able to clear his head using some unknown cache of willpower which he might have been proud of, were it being used for anything other than forming complete thoughts when a legend of a man, twice his age and a hundred times his status was only a hair’s breadth from being inside him... Still...  _Vittorio_ could not find any shame in it. While Ezio may have needed a friend more than a fuck,  _Vittorio_ was drawn to more than just his exquisite body. The Maestro’s isolated heart; his guilt and sadness; his loneliness and resignation and loss called out to  _Vittorio_ and he recognized it as something he would have exploited to harm and ruin as a Templar, but which he would now use to soothe and help. If he could get closer to Ezio like this then he had no issue with using his body. It was another tool like his armor or his sword or his mind.  
  
He knew he could never draw out all of the poison. Some wounds simply went too deep; filled up with too much bad blood. Some wounds ached and pained and never- ever healed.  
  
Of course he knew that one such as he could never be the person to repair that damage, or cure that venom. Perhaps no one could, but maybe he could do something- anything- enough-  
  
Perhaps he might do enough to make a difference. If he was given the chance, he would do what he could.  
  
“Mmnn.. I can see that it does not continue to bother  _you_  that  _I_  am so much younger...”  _Vittorio_ decided to try lightening Ezio’s mood by a bit of teasing, chuckling when his shoulder was nuzzled and nibbled; tickled by the coarse hairs of the Maestro’s short beard. The hands on him tightened and the steady rocking against his backside increased in urgency.  _Vittorio_ spread his knees wider on the blanket and canted his hips back accommodatingly, smirking at the Maestro’s grunt of approval and adding his own appreciative noises as the angle changed and Ezio began to roll his hips fluidly so that  _Vittorio_ could feel the entire length of him.  
  
“I’ve managed to get past it, if only because I realize that you are more than man enough...” He could feel Ezio’s smirk against his ear and shuddered back against the Maestro’s body, letting his head fall to the side as Ezio's affixed that hot mouth over the corded muscles of his neck, sliding wetly up to lap just behind his ear, murmuring lowly into it as he worked his hands downward once more to grip  _Vittorio's_  upper thighs, drawing him back as he rocked forward. "I found that after we were interrupted by Francesco and Giovanni the other day, I could not put you... could not put  _this_... out of my mind..." As Ezio spoke, his hands stayed on the move, stroking lightly over delicate tender areas, more roughly across others not so sensitive; flattening a palm on his lower belly to add pressure just above where his erect manhood jutted from between his spread thighs, grinding harder against the base of his spine. Slowly Ezio leaned him over and  _Vittorio_ fell to elbows and knees, raising his hips.  
  
While  _Vittorio_ may have instigated the match by teasing with words, Ezio certainly won it with actions; touching precisely, with just the right amount of pressure; just the right bite of nail; just the right timing to quickly have  _Vittorio_ panting, eyes low-lidded and spine arched sharply, the backs of his spread thighs thrown back hard against Ezio’s hips. The Maestro slid smoothly between his taut buttocks, made slick by his own fluids and while the physical evidence of his excitement was obvious, the man remained controlled, his motions graceful and infuriatingly gentle.  
  
Even more arousing than the direct physical stimulation was the erotic pantomime of coupling in this fashion and as Ezio slid over flesh which was still tender from his having been with Teodor only the previous night in just this way, it brought the Officer sharply to  _Vittorio's_  mind and he felt a strange mixture of guilt and anticipation as a tremulous wave of heat which swept outward from his very core, making his face flush with both arousal and shame. His ears were ringing and intense heat flared in his lower abdomen, tingling in his fingers and lips, making his toes curl and worsening the throbbing ache within him.  _Vittorio_ let his head fall to hang between his hunched shoulders and tightened his fingers in the blanket, rocking his hips to get every inch of the Maestro against him but then Ezio paused, causing him to suck in a breath through his teeth as he bit his lower lip.. He was glad his hair had fallen around his burning cheeks, hiding them from view. Both Teodor and Ezio could do this to him; have him shaking and panting in desperation within moments.  
  
“Merda, Vittorio. Are you certain you are not actually here to ruin me for women? Ezio’s low voice hummed against his skin as lips pressed between his shoulder-blades, kissing his scarred imperfect skin, making him arch and whine. He was finding the area strangely sensitive, the way that kneading or stroking it firmly caused his body to twist as one would, upon receiving that unusual jolt from someone who had been shuffling across woolen carpets...  
  
“Ah-nghh flattery...? H-has something in my posture suggested I require- ah- f-further seduction Maestro?” It was proving difficult to maintain coherent thought with Ezio still rocking gently against him but he did manage to add, “The oil is in the outer pouch...” turning his head at the sound of Ezio’s amused chuckle to peer back over his shoulder through his damp hair.  
  
“I’m not just going to grease you up and have my way with you Vittorio... If that is what you expect, I cannot imagine what the gossips must be saying of me!” Ezio looked heavenward, the corners of his mouth down-turned, mocking piety as convincingly as anyone could while pressed so intimately against another and _Vittorio_ had to laugh. Ezio looked down at him again, smiling “No, I want more from you.” And with that, the pretense of innocence dissolved and  _Vittorio_  shuddered under his master as fingers, calloused from endless climbing and fighting stroked his back and flanks and thighs, teasingly spreading him with strong thumbs for just a moment.  
  
When Ezio slowly pulled away with an apologetic murmur  _Vittorio_ groaned pitifully. He was hard as iron; more than ready; too eager he knew but again could muster no shame for it and as he lay panting, with his chest to the ground and his rear high in the air,  _Vittorio_ idly wondered if Ezio was the type who would have him begging for an hour before finally;  _mercifully_ taking him... However, without the intimate stimulation he did find it easier to form words.  
  
“Th-they speak mostly of quantities without much mention of your style... without any real detail.  _Mi dispiace_. I meant no insult Maestro.” He muttered, face pressed into the crook of his elbow.  
  
Ezio only chuckled again. “I must give you a taste of my style, Apprentice... Allow me to edit for you, the stories those shameless gossips tell.”  
  
Urged back up onto his knees with Ezio’s light encouragement he turned when manipulated by the shoulders and found himself facing the Maestro once more and when those hands came up to cup his face, turning it up so that their lips could touch and then slide together, he was again reminded of Teodor, shivering as the sense-memory of their first kiss flooded his mind with a vivid, if instantaneous impression of the dim cell; the cold stone wall; Teodor’s fingers beneath his hood; in his hair; lifting his face and pressing their mouths together. Goose-flesh erupted over his chest and arms and thighs and he groaned with a longing he could not diminish or contain. But if Ezio suspected that it might not have been entirely for him he made no sign, only kissing him more deeply and  _Vittorio_ opened his mouth with another low sound of want and pleasure, sliding his hands down over his master’s muscular back to grip his hips and grind against him as they teased and licked at each other’s lips and chins and throats.  
  
Ezio leaned back onto his heels and  _Vittorio_ moved up to straddle his thighs, taking some control when he found himself in a dominant position. He gripped them both in one hand and stroked upward, squeezing them together; blending and spreading the slick fluid over their tips and he could not miss the look of vague shock that crossed Ezio’s face as  _Vittorio_ touched him, seeing how it rapidly shifted through approval and appreciation to desire, to need... Perhaps it was a bit unusual that someone dare to  _give_  Ezio pleasure; perhaps his other lovers, whoever they were only allowed him to take it from them. It saddened him to think that Ezio might have assumed he would be the same, so he resolved that he would not simply lay back like a whore and although he had no intention of attempting to reverse their roles; although he might submit- wanted to submit... He would still meet the Maestro as an equal.  
  
Ezio did not want people to worship him, that much was clear in the lessons he taught the recruits.  _‘Nothing is true’... ‘Do not follow me blindly, Do not follow anyone blindly’... ‘Think for yourselves and question everything’... Do not let others tell you what you should believe’... ‘Everything is permitted’... ‘Let no one convince you that they are righteous above you’... ‘Let no one threaten the freedom that wisdom grants you’... ‘Do not fear’..._  So opposite the Templar way...  
  
 _Vittorio_ led their kiss this time, sealing his mouth over the Maestro’s and plunging his tongue in with dominance and assertion and surprisingly Ezio did not attempt to fight him, only meeting  _Vittorio's_  tongue with his own and caressing it tenderly, moaning in pleasure as  _Vittorio_ continued to just lightly run his fingertips over and around their rigid lengths, pressed together between their bodies. Ezio shifted so he could get off his knees. Falling back rather unexpectedly, he pulled  _Vittorio_ down on top of him, arching up to meet his Apprentice’s downward thrust and for some time they just lay there kissing and rocking slowly together, each working their fingers into the other’s still-damp hair, moaning into one another.  
  
But apparently the Maestro would not accept his Apprentice’s superior position for too long and soon enough he rolled  _Vittorio_ over onto his back, settling between his upraised knees without missing a beat and proceeding to dominate their embrace, taking  _Vittorio's_  hands and pinning them above his head, dragging teeth lightly along his jaw and down the arched line of his throat to taste the skin where his collarbones met.  _Vittorio_  made a token attempt to struggle in Ezio’s grip without any real intent to free himself.  
  
“If I had known you wished me restrained... I would have brought rope.”  _Vittorio_ somehow managed a coy smirk, chuckling as Ezio shuddered atop him, groaning against his throat and twitching his hips shallowly. But Vittorio's mirth switched abruptly to blazing desire when Ezio shifted between his thighs to nudge tormentingly against him, as if to penetrate but pressing only hard enough to tease; only hard enough to have him writhing, heat flushing his skin, his manhood flexing and leaving pools of clear slippery fluid along his belly; A quivering tightness grew in his thighs and groin that was so much like the one which usually preceded climax that  _Vittorio_ worried for a moment that it might actually happen. However, it only manifested as a sensation like warm liquid sliding down inside him, pooling deep in his core and as an uncontrollable arch of his body, accompanied by a long breath of every oath and curse he knew.  
  
Ezio hummed in satisfaction at his response, placing a kiss upon his left nipple, then sucking it into his mouth and  _Vittorio_ thrashed, moaning helplessly as Ezio hummed again then pulled his mouth away to blow across the wet skin he had left. “Next time perhaps... For now, I want you to be free to touch me. You are no  _puttana_.” Ezio paused, considering, “Although I must admit that your experience, at least with men is likely a match for my own, despite our difference in age and regardless of the gossip’s tallies.” Again he paused, looking Vittorio over before continuing. “There is something of the  _professional_  in your manner, if I am right?” His tone was casual and non-accusatory given what he seemed to be implying.  
  
 _Vittorio_ cast his eyes to the side, his cheeks flaring red. He had been intentionally vague regarding his past but still Ezio had read him down to the punctuation.. “D- does it trouble you...? It was never for money... Only for warmth and safety. I often used my charm...” He frowned and added in a low mutter, “And it was not  _always_ men either... and not always like  _this_...” He indicated his position upon his back. “The city can be as cruel as she is beautiful... to a boy with no one... You can understand, I’m sure... that we all do what we must.”  
  
“I understand well Vittorio and it does not bother me a bit, nor would it even if it had been otherwise. I’ve nothing against that trade in any case.” Ezio released his hands and brought  _Vittorio's_  chin back up with a gentle touch, looking him in the eyes intently before placing another kiss against his lips. “Does it bother you to find that the tales of my activities are so greatly exaggerated?” He made an apologetic moue of his lips and drew his eyebrows up in the center. The effect was endearing and amusing. It made  _Vittorio_ smile.  
  
“No... Ezio. I stand by what I said. What rumors others might spread, they matter not at all to me. I am here because I wish to know  _you_ , not just the idea of Maestro Assassino, Ezio Auditore Da Firenze. I am here to tell you something also, but that can wait.” He finished, his smile widening when Ezio nodded in approval and their lips met once more.  
  
Ezio gave him little time to think from then on, sliding down his body with wet kisses along his ribs and the hard muscles of his stomach. The Maestro did not bother to tease, swallowing  _Vittorio_  down to the root so suddenly that he thrashed and shouted, tossing his head back; his hands flying out to grip the blanket on either side of his body.  
  
Certainly he was no  _puttana_  as Ezio had said and the man now seemed determined to make him feel like a lover; gentle in all the right ways and confident as if they had done this many times before. The close heat of his mouth set fire to  _Vittorio's_  blood, leaving him gasping and struggling to prop himself up on one elbow so he could twist his fingers into Ezio’s damp hair. The Maestro growled around him when he tightened them, glancing up with such challenge in his eyes that  _Vittorio_ stiffened, thinking he might have gone too far but Ezio only raised an eyebrow and slid down his length an inch or two, raising the other eyebrow expectantly.  
  
 _Vittorio_ groaned in pleasure; in disbelief and pushed his master’s head down, clawing at the blanket with his other hand as he slid into Ezio’s throat and the man started doing something so deliberate with his tongue that  _Vittorio_ began to roll his hips uncontrollably with the rhythm of it, the inarticulate noises and curses flowing freely from his lips now.  _Vittorio_ had no doubt that Ezio would stay down as long as he might hold him there but having no desire to test the man, he lessened the weight of his hand and released his grip on Ezio’s thick hair, combing through it affectionately with his fingers. Ezio pulled up off him and  _Vittorio_ met his gaze for a moment, biting his lip. He glanced towards his pack where it lay to Ezio’s left and the Maestro followed his gaze.  
  
They both lunged for the pack simultaneously and being closer, Ezio gained it first, waving it aloft and out of  _Vittorio's_  reach then turning it out on the blanket and spreading the contents, searching. But  _Vittorio_ was quicker to spot the item and swept it up with a triumphant laugh. Ezio huffed and  _Vittorio_ pressed his lips together to mock the Maestro’s pout and tossed the pot of altea ointment to him with a roll of his eyes.  
  
It was shockingly easy to be with Ezio like this, playful and free in their seclusion. The Assassin seemed lighter than  _Vittorio_ had seen him, perhaps a little more genuine in his smile and somewhat less wry in his tone. Sincerely, Vittorio hoped that it was not just wishful thinking. Perhaps he really would be able to do something for Ezio. If they became close, even if it was in secret... he could learn, he could test his theories and he could confirm or find false all that he had ever heard or thought of Ezio. So much had been revealed to him already, he hungered for more and for the first time he was free to seek it without an ulterior motive. He was not being paid to spy. He was not attempting to gain damaging information to use for blackmail. He was but one of Ezio’s Apprentices and honestly, he wished only to help. Perhaps it was out of a sense of kinship in brokenness... or perhaps just for the chance to  _matter_.  
  
He mattered to Teodor. This Vittorio now knew. To one person, he was important enough to risk everything for and he found that the feeling was addictive... To make a difference, to alter a life not by the finality of the blade nor by the oppression of the cross but by the gentleness of the heart; beating just like that of another; of every other... By hands clasped in brotherhood; affection; love.  
  
Even with so short a time with the Brotherhood, _Vittorio_ had come to realize how his smallest actions could greatly effect those around him. Roberto thought the world of him because he showed the old man respect and courtesy; because he had joined the Brotherhood; because he was careful to bring no trouble home to _Gallo_  with him. Dottore held him in high regard because he had an idea of what  _Vittorio_ had been before his “resurrection” and nodded in approval when they met now, seeing the change that had taken hold in him. Marco had great respect for him because although he was extremely good at some things, he did not boast or flaunt unnecessarily. Marco had played a large part in making things well between he and the others who had lashed out against him... Machiavelli had seemed to find him suspicious at first but had warmed to him quickly once he had displayed humility and deference, now he treated  _Vittorio_ as a gifted student; a trusted Apprentice of the Brotherhood. Francesco... Young Giovanni... his Brother and Sister Apprentices... even Luciana...  
  
And Teodor... and Ezio.  
  
He began to understand the power of small acts. Timed right, well considered and executed with care and observance. They would gain power; gain strength; reach many and change  _everything_.  
  
Ezio dipped his fingers into the salve and  _Vittorio_ quite nearly threw himself back onto the blanket as the larger man moved up over him once more, getting right in between his thighs with knees planted far apart to open him further.  _Vittorio_ pulled the man down with arms around his neck, head tilting to lock their mouths together again. They were almost savage this time, biting and sucking at eachother’s lips and jaws and throats.  _Vittorio_ pushed a hand down between them to stroke Ezio, tracing the rigid shape of him, exploring the smooth way the skin slid under his fingers like silk over steel, smirking as the Maestro moaned against his skin, scraping teeth across his collarbone and thrusting up into his hand,  _finally_  pressing salve coated fingers against him. Stroking gently at first, he circled the hole with his fingertips until  _Vittorio_ cried out; until the delicate skin there was flush and hot and slick. Ezio increased the pressure without actually pushing in more than an inch, working  _Vittorio_ over until he was a quivering, gasping, pleading  _wreck_.  
  
“Ah- Maestro...  _Per favore... per favore..._ ” He was aching inside and a broken sob escaped him as Ezio mercifully added more salve and ceased holding him in desperation, sliding two fingers in and turning them about to spread the slickness and _Vittorio_ really would have liked to continue pleasuring Ezio but from then on he could do naught but writhe and arch, his breath catching each time Ezio twitched those strong fingers.  _Vittorio_ twisted his own hair around one hand, gripping the blanket to his side with the other as Ezio sat back to gain a better angle. The Maestro did not seem to mind his inattentiveness and continued to manipulate him expertly.  
  
His romp with Teodor the previous night had left him a bit sore. They had been quite desperate for each other and had not taken all the time they maybe should have and Teodor had gotten somewhat rough but only when  _Vittorio_ had begged him for more... for harder...  _Dio harder_...  _Ah-...Dio **Teodor**!_  
  
 _'Cazzo...'_  He would have to be careful to not call out for Teodor when it was Ezio... that would be very bad. It was not something he had been used to before he had encountered the Officer... having lovers with names to cry out. Before he had become a Templar his encounters had been casual at best, and undertaken out of desperation at worst; in the cold of winter or when his stomach had been empty for too long, before he had properly learned to make a living at theft and mugging; cons and gambling. The first thing a person learns when alone is that one must use the tools at one’s disposal. Old tricks were always the best and so he had continued using his body and charms to sleep in comfort, eat well and at times pretend at domestic life for a moment... even if he made more than enough pickpocketing to pay for an inn or a meal from one of the taverns. That was money he could stash away for when times became lean.  
  
After he had cast in with the Templars he had gone to bed with far fewer people, having his own assigned quarters and a stipend for food and drink, the same as the Papal Guards received. Also he was paid by the contract for the assignments Cesare gave him. As Il Lupo he had become even more remote and detached and rarely saw anyone who aroused much sexual interest in him. There were only two people he regularly spent any appreciable time with, passing most of his days in solitary study or tailing Apprentice Assassins around Roma and he had certainly never touched Fiora although she had offered herself plenty of times. Getting attached to that woman in any way had always seemed a bad idea... and it was easy for him to resist women, which she found endlessly irritating. Baltasar had never shown the slightest interest in him in that way, only really admiring his skill at sneaking and killing, which had suited Il Lupo just fine. The Barber had been an unkind man and a bit too fond of his straight razor. Lupo hadn’t enjoyed bleeding any more than  _Vittorio_  did. Of course there had been a few people over the years with whom he had shared more than one night but they were as he had intended Teodor to be; pleasant distractions which would ultimately end when he chose to walk away. However, with Teodor that was not what had happened.  
  
Becoming attached to Ezio in the same way that he was to Teodor would be impossible. He needed to keep them very separate in his mind.  
  
“Cazzo!” He arched, crying out and digging his heels into the blanket as Ezio pushed in a third finger curling them precisely to stroke every bit of him which could feel pleasure. The soreness was quickly transforming into a molten need and because the feeling of it made him so desperate for more, he could only call it as pleasure. It was much like kneading a tight muscle until it finally relaxed, that relief was what he sought. Truthfully he was ready, he was loose and slick enough that Ezio’s fourth finger slipped in with no trouble when he pointed his hand.  _Vittorio_ still let another string of curses go, glaring when Ezio chuckled.  
  
“Such  _language_...” The Maestro clicked his tongue, slowly twisting his hand and _Vittorio_  writhed, this time clamping his teeth shut on his curse. ' _Dio... He could feel every knuckle!'_ Still achingly hard, he panted as Ezio ghosted the fingertips of his other hand over him, just tracing the curve; the veins and ridges. Those light touches along with the pressure inside him had  _Vittorio_ shivering, flexing against his belly and Ezio trailed his fingers through the pool of slippery liquid that pulsed from him and slowly spread it back down his shaft.  _Vittorio_ closed his eyes and ground his head back into the blanket.  
  
He could not bear it any longer! Teodor could be rushed with just a few encouraging moans and lascivious twists of his hips but Ezio was not  _nearly_  as easily swayed. “M-Maestro! Ezio,  _per favore..._ I cannot take it anymore!  _Per favore!_ ”  _Dio_... He couldn't be made to wait any longer; to beg any more... the Maestro could not be so cruel...  
  
“How could I resist someone who asks so nicely?” The fingers were slowly withdrawn from him and  _Vittorio_ shivered as the blunt silky head of Ezio’s manhood replaced them and he was so desperate for it that he could only really sigh in relief when Ezio finally slid into him. Gripped firmly behind the knees and pressed back to tilt his hips, _Vittorio_ lost his breath as he was slowly, delicately penetrated. Ezio was extremely gentle even though  _Vittorio_ was open and absolutely ready to accept him. He made certain to glide over all of  _Vittorio's_  most sensitive places after the brief moment of pressure and then the small jolt as the relaxed muscles finished giving way for him. While _Vittorio_ had closed his eyes he could still hear the low curse Ezio made as he entered and the melding of need and satisfaction in the Maestro’s voice echoed his own.  _Vittorio_ forced his eyes open so he could view Ezio in the dim glow of the lantern, back-lit by the moon; by the broad band of stars and ethereal luminosity which cut through the sky above them. A cool night breeze lofted Ezio’s drying hair in soft wisps and tickled over their skin, raising goose bumps across their limbs and they both shivered pleasantly as Ezio fully hilted himself. He relaxed his grip on Vittorio's legs and eased forward planting an elbow to either side of his head so that their noses nearly touched and meeting his eyes for several moments, clearly trying to give him time despite the ease with which he had slid inside. But  _Vittorio_ was having none of it. He was finished waiting and rolled his hips to encourage the Maestro to move.  
  
Although Ezio had clear experience with men it was equally obvious that he spent more time with women. While he and Teodor shared many physical traits; similar in height and build, dark of hair and eye with strong jaws and noses; alike in size practically everywhere, their style of love making was completely different. Teodor had been a cavalryman before becoming one of Cesare’s henchmen, he was a life long bachelor who had never bedded nor wanted a woman and so having only ever experienced men, the Officer had always treated him as a man, even though Lupo always took the receiving position. Teodor was every bit as respectful as Ezio but less delicate, more uncontrollably passionate. Ezio was very precise and very gentle; almost obsessive in detail as he caressed and teased and stroked; as he pressed inside and fluidly pulled back again; too careful, as if he was being watched or graded, or perhaps it just felt too good to rush. Regardless,  _Vittorio_ had a need to be filled and taken more roughly. He did not desire to be treated as though he were glass.  
  
“You need not be so gentle with me... I can handle your strength Maestro.”  _Vittorio_ arched to meet him as he thrust, forcing him deeper and their bodies collided with an erotic slap of flesh and a grunt from Ezio and while the Assassin offered no immediate verbal reply, he did eagerly increase his pace and power. Soon  _Vittorio_ was propelled beyond reason by it, thrashing when Ezio sat back onto his heels and thrust upward. He bent his body sharply, canting his hips down to meet him but the man was pulling him up with a strong arm around his back and soon he sat upright, straddling the Maestro’s lap, groaning as he settled and his weight forced Ezio up inside him as far as he would go.  _Vittorio_ wasted no time in recovering though, raising himself up and dropping back down, throwing his head back with a soft cry. The tiny noise seemed to set something off in Ezio and the arms around  _Vittorio_ tightened, pulling him down as if to push further in, even though he was filled completely with the entire length and girth of the man.  _Vittorio_ moaned again louder and stilled, with hips twitching shallowly as he felt Ezio flex inside him.  
  
“You may have my strength then, Vittorio.” the Assassin finally replied and  _Vittorio_ was gripped hard by the hips, only able to widen his eyes for a split second before they slammed shut again and he dropped his head forward onto Ezio’s shoulder, his arms coming up to wrap around the Maestro’s back, tightening just to hold himself steady.  _Force_  was the word for it; still precise, still controlled but hard and fierce and passionate. Their bodies came together with tooth-rattling impacts and resounding slaps of flesh on flesh and the breaths which were pushed from Vittorio’s lungs with each thrust were just unrecognizable noise; half fluent profanity and half inarticulate cry. If he could have managed coherent thought,  _Vittorio_ might have considered attempting to reach down between their bodies and take himself in hand but his mind was far from the mechanics of the act.  
  
Ezio’s knees spread apart on the blanket and one strong arm moved up to wrap about  _Vittorio_ , hugging him close while he crossed his ankles behind the Assassin’s back, gripping with strength as Ezio leaned him back slightly, curling over him to plant a hand on the ground. The effect was pendulum like and  _Vittorio_ gripped harder, his short nails biting into Ezio’s skin as his body now bounced with the Maestro’s thrusts, swinging back to meet him with greater and greater force each time. He was becoming wild with it, the intense sensations of pleasure so pointed they nearly hurt but in such a sweet way that it was impossible to call it pain; the heat and pressure inside him beginning to condense and boil, seeping outward into his extremities, making them tingle. He wasn’t sure he would be able to reach climax without either his own hand or Ezio’s but he was feeling  _terribly_  close... Perhaps he had just been teased too long...  
  
While  _Vittorio_ cried out into the night air, his cheek pressed to Ezio’s shoulder, the Assassin muffled his own noises by burying his face in  _Vittorio’s_  thick, damp hair. But  _Vittorio_ could feel him panting against his neck and hear the gasps and breaths and curses even over the slap of their skin and the blood rushing in his ears. The Maestro’s volume and the desperation coloring his voice was steadily increasing and _Vittorio_ could feel the rigid shaft which filled him twitching, thickening; could feel it further hardening inside him and he realized that Ezio was also very-  _very_  close.  
  
Kicking out with one leg, he upset their balance and they toppled,  _Vittorio_ landing hard on his back with a grunt but instantly recovering and dragging Ezio down onto him with a much force as he could manage, pulling the Assassin into him by tightening the legs still wrapped around him. Ezio did at first exclaim a surprised curse but then began to rut wildly, latching his mouth onto  _Vittorio's_  throat and denting his skin with the edges of his teeth as he thrust hard and fast.  
  
For his part  _Vittorio_ was practically there. He no longer needed to hang onto Ezio for stability, so was free to curl his fingers about his own aching manhood an help himself along to a toe curling climax within moments. As soon as  _Vittorio_ began to lock up in orgasm Ezio sat back and gripped him behind the knees again, just slowly rolling his hips as  _Vittorio_ stroked himself through it and it seemed that just watching; feeling  _Vittorio_ reach completion was enough for Ezio to also find release.  _Vittorio_ watched him go, watched and felt him bury himself deep with a grunt and a hard exhalation through the nose; with a face that was all clenched teeth and furrowed brows for a split second until it relaxed, his jaw dropping open, panting roughly until the strongest of the muscle contractions had faded for both of them. Ezio still pushed steadily into him though, even after being well and truly finished and it was almost too much,  _Vittorio_ could not hold in his thin whine; could not halt the writhing of his hips.  
  
Ezio stilled and then collapsed onto him, breathing very hard.  _Vittorio_ unlinked his ankles and relaxed his body with a long breath of satisfaction, sprawling shamelessly beneath the Maestro who continued to twitch atop him for some moments before groaning and shifting to pull himself out gently and carefully, rolling off  _Vittorio_ to the side and settling onto the blanket on his back.  
  
Even with the care he took  _Vittorio_ still groaned in slight discomfort as he was evacuated, he rolled onto his side and panted for a moment, feeling Ezio’s semen begin to run out of him, sliding down over the curve of his thigh. He groaned again when Ezio turned towards him, gently lofting his leg.  _Vittorio_ jolted, thinking for a moment that the man meant to enter him again but he was only touched gently with a soft cloth, one that he had brought in his pack, the contents of which were still scattered over the blanket with their sprawled bodies.  
  
Ezio carefully cleaned him with the cloth and then somewhat embarrassingly, proceeded to examine him for injury.  
  
“ _Merda..._  Maestro I am  _fine_... You would have to be much more violent to damage me.. Remember that...” He smirked back over his shoulder despite his embarrassment and Ezio smiled back at him, releasing his leg.  
  
After they had rested a while, reclining naked on the blanket together and pointing out constellations in the inky sky, they returned to the pond and rinsed the sweat and semen and bits of grass and leaves from their bodies before gathering up their belongings and clothing. They dressed in companionable silence and  _Vittorio_ again found it comfortable...  _easy_... as though they had been lovers a long time.  _Vittorio_ wondered if Ezio felt the same, or if he was simply this relaxed with everyone he bedded. It was impossible to tell. The man seemed at ease but the Maestro was more enigmatic that  _Vittorio_ had anticipated. He had to admit to himself that he was at a disadvantage with Ezio.  
  
“What was the thing you wanted to speak with me about?”  _Vittorio_ almost jumped as Ezio suddenly broke the silence and for a second he was at a loss but then he flushed. He had actually  _forgotten_ about telling Ezio that he had decided to accept the Order’s invitation to advance. He finished pulling on his hooded tunic and turned to face Ezio, tying back his hair with the ribbon from his wrist.  
  
“I have changed my mind about needing more time. I wish to take my Leap of Faith Maestro. If you still find me worthy to advance without completing the intervening ranks. I would be a weapon and an ambassador for the Brotherhood and I will uphold the Creed.” He pulled up his hood and finished fastening his sash, affixing his sword belt over it.  _Vittorio_ looked up into the shadows under Ezio’s own hood.  
  
In the fading lantern light  _Vittorio_ watched Ezio nod; watched his scarred mouth curl up in a pleased smile.

 

 

 

~O~


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vittorio has conversations with both Ezio and Teodor and learns several important things.

  
Chapter Warnings: ALL KINDS OF FLUFF! Romance, MORE INTROSPECTION, Emotional ambiguity, dread, A lot of talking.  
  


  
  
After setting everything at the range to rights they rode together for a while, taking a leisurely route along a hunting track which meandered between the olive grove and the river. Ezio walked his mount abreast  _Vittorio's_  in the tall grass so that they could still hold a conversation, mainly discussing the limited conditions of  _Vittorio's_ impending advancement.  
  
“Your skill with a blade and your loyalty to the Brotherhood is not in question but because your time with the order has been so brief, I feel it best that you be awarded the status of Assassino, but you will not be placed on the mission roster. You will be part of a small team which will be assigned tasks separately.  
  
 _Vittorio_  nodded along in agreement but he could not help feeling a little confused and also a bit irritated. “It unnerves me that you have already arranged all of this... I take it then that my change of heart came as no surprise to you?”  _Vittorio_  groused, hunching his shoulders and thinking back to the main hall earlier, when Ezio had drawn Machiavelli back and whispered to him... It was strange to be so easily read. “Why offer me early advancement? It is not that I distrust your decision but it seems a bit rushed... Is there some hurry?”  
  
“Honestly, it is for your martial prowess alone that you are being advanced now. You are wasted on the support detail, running after me when with your skill-set, I want you training other Apprentices. I need my more seasoned Assassini to lead missions beyond Italia and Marco has agreed to take over mastery of the range and instruct the new recruits in marksmanship at least until Cipriano has recovered from his injuries... Although I assume that once he does he will wish to assist Francesco in mentoring young Giovanni. For obvious reasons, Francesco does not wish to lead another team... so soon after...” Deep regret and loss briefly darkened Ezio’s tone and he paused to rub a hand over his face, sighing softly before continuing. “With Tessa gone, Luciana will still be our ringer in the pickpocket trial, Si,  _Vittorio_ , Luciana will still train recruits in pickpocketing even though you bested her.” He chided gently at  _Vittorio's_  askance look. “I think perhaps you should have a rematch. The results might have been different had she been expecting a master thief rather than an untrained citizen...”  _Vittorio_  shrugged, considering but Ezio waved a hand dismissively. “It matters little at any rate. You are needed as a martial instructor. Even if we win the war tomorrow... The Templar threat will not end with the Borgia and we will need you in the days ahead Vittorio. True, you have not been long with us but training ends when there remains nothing to teach. Then the process of gaining practical experience begins.” He smiled lopsidedly, waving his hand again for emphasis then curling it into a loose fist and thumping it into his other palm, rattling his horse’s bridle. “We will hold your initiation at dusk tomorrow... interestingly enough, Luciana is scheduled to return tomorrow from her final mission as an Apprentice and we will initiate the two of you together.”  
  
 _Vittorio_  glanced at him sidelong, raising an eyebrow, turning slightly in the saddle so he could more fully address his hooded companion. “She is not going to like that at all... I worry that she might never be able to relax her face if she is forced to glare at me any harder than she already does...”  
  
He tried not to smirk at the mental image of Luciana’s scowl, a look which could wither carved marble roses and curdle wine; which would threaten to cause those unfortunate beings of lesser fortitude to simply burst into flames.  _Vittorio_  knew she could make other faces. He had chanced to see one or two of her other expressions, before she noticed his presence and slammed her eyebrows down in a similar manner to that of a farmer dropping two heavy sacks of grain. She was round-cheeked and lightly freckled with brilliant blue eyes and golden hair which tumbled loose from beneath her ever-drawn hood.  _Vittorio_  thought her face quite pretty actually, surprising himself a bit because he generally took little notice of women.  
  
But pretty or plain, Luciana certainly had monumental pride... Perhaps he could appeal to that in some way. He had little faith it would work however.  
  
Ezio interrupted his musing over the other Apprentice by clearing his throat and _Vittorio_  snapped back to attention, blushing and hurriedly apologizing for losing focus but the Maestro only smirked knowingly and waved a hand to dismiss his concerns. He leaned in his saddle to stretch over and clap  _Vittorio_  on the shoulder. “I was hoping you would agree to work alongside Marco... and Luciana to train our newest recruits in the basics... Marco, of course will handle archery and horsemanship and Luciana was Tessa’s best student and second only after her at thievery... You, are an excellent fighter and you know the rooftops as well as any could hope to... I need strong dedicated people to assure our Brotherhood remains well trained and effective. It must continue to govern itself and adapt to survive beyond our lifetimes and the lifetimes of our children... our grandchildren...” For a moment his eyes drifted, growing far away but then he quickly smiled. “Do not worry  _Vittorio_ , she will eventually accept that you are an Assassin, equal to her in rank. Just try not do anything that would give her a reason not to.” He laughed and  _Vittorio_  shook his head dubiously, muttering-  
  
“That seems much more easily said than done, Maestro...”  
  
“What is this? Complaining already?” Ezio leaned away again with an exaggerated frown. “The tailor has yet to even take your measurements and already the uniform is uncomfortable?” He teased and  _Vittorio_  turned back to face front with a huff, although he could not help but to also lower his head and chuckle.  
  
“It is not like that. I can handle myself...”  _Vittorio_  smirked again, straightening up in the saddle. “I can be quite charming you know... I say, let her try to continue hating me and wishing for nothing but that I should take a plunge from a high rooftop to my painful death... and if my charm fails me, I can attempt to use reason... and if that also fails, then we can... have a rematch...” He turned again at the sound of Ezio’s wry laughter and pursed his lips, vaguely annoyed at the tone of it. “You think me naive?”  
  
Ezio shook his lowered head, eyes entirely invisible. “No  _Vittorio_... Quite the opposite... I think you know far too much.” Laughing again, more in bemusement than mockery, he stopped his horse and slackened the reins so that they draped loosely about the beast’s shaggy neck.  _Vittorio_  did the same, turning his own mount so they were facing each other beside the path as the Maestro continued. “I wonder each day where you came from, with all your knowledge and skill, practically one of us before you even began to train. An ordinary man or woman from the citizenry of Roma might take months to fully master half things you seem naturally adept at. You know the rooftops as well as any who have been far longer in our Brotherhood. You fight with precision and skill but also with variation, as if you began as a street brawler and were later instructed in swordsmanship as a noble might have been and you use your hidden blade as if you were born with one strapped to your arm... I could go on but as I have said before Vittorio, you are nothing like the others I have recruited. I know what you have told us of your past; your orphaning and childhood in the Church’s foundling house; your varied  _professions_  after you left that place.  _Vittorio Vitelli_... I  _know_  that there is  _much_  you are hiding.” Ezio’s tone was unreadable, his face again hidden in the shadows of his hood when he finished speaking.  
  
A long pause made the air feel charged and too close.  _Vittorio_  attempted to keep his face neutral but his heart began pounding in his ears, irrational panic creeping outward from a heavy, hot and cold knot that had formed in his belly.  _How strange if his lie had been discovered..._   _Vittorio's_  mind spun with horrifying possibilities.  _Had he been played? Had Ezio somehow known this whole time? Was this to be the end of him? They were far from anywhere; an ideal place for disposing of a Templar spy... but he was no Templar... not any longer. Would Ezio do that to him? Take pleasure with him... Lie to him so easily and colorfully about his advancement... Call him Assassino knowing what he was? Could Ezio actually intend to kill him out here on this lonely road...?_  
  
Having been on the wrong end of treachery before,  _Vittorio_  realized that it had never come as any real surprise. Betrayal was something he had come to so expect from people that he had even taken precautions against it with Fiora, attempting to immunize himself against the full effects of her poison. From Ezio, such a betrayal would be a bitter shock. He forced his panic down, breathing evenly to calm himself. He simply could not bring himself to believe that Ezio would string him along that way and reasoned that if the whole truth about him was known, then he would have already been killed and  _certainly_  without all the pageantry.  
  
He had been the victim of exactly the same problem with the Templars. When Fiora had betrayed Cesare, Il Lupo was the last link... the only person other than Cesare himself who knew how much she had already spied on her new Assassin allies; how much she had observed of the Brotherhood; how much she had already divulged to their Templar enemies. Il Lupo had been one of the most grand results of her spying after all... and when she had turned, Fiora realized that he simply possessed too much damaging information. Of course it would not have occurred to her that he might have been willing to follow her over.... At that time though...  
  
He did not know if he would have been.  
  
And now, again... he simply knew too much to be left alive. He would either become and remain an Assassin, leaving his past behind him or he would be discovered as the former Templar he was and would surely be killed. Even if he ran they would hunt him.  _Vittorio_  did not see how it could happen any other way. At this point he doubted that he could make anyone believe that he was not a spy if his identity were to be revealed. They would fear his return to the Templars should they turn him loose and although the Assassins had worked with Templar defectors before, they had not let Fiora into their hideout or shared with her any of their real secrets. But they had known up front what she was....  _Vittorio_  was certain Fiora had never held any interest in the goals of the Assassins, intending only to use them to betray Cesare, which he believed she had done purely for revenge, not because she was really on the side of the Brotherhood...  
  
But  _Vittorio_  was.  
  
Never before had he been a part of any family. The foundling house had been more a school than a home, offering routine and discipline rather than love; interested only in cycling out a steady stream of young apprentice tradesmen and marriageable girls. Over his years on the streets there had been alliances and communities but no true altruism, only the bartering of goods and services in the interest of mutual survival.  
  
And the Templars? He had been on the periphery of their organization, little more than an employee, wearing their colors and following their orders no matter how wicked but ultimately remaining a solitary thief and hunter. Alone with his blades and the rooftops and the birds in the skies; invisible because nobody was looking.  
  
Now, he had people who called him Brother. He had friends and allies, people who welcomed him not because of what he might possibly be taken for but because they truly got on and the only exchange was the pleasure of company. He had a Family, and a cause he could actually believe in.  _Vittorio_  was an Assassin and he was realizing more each day how much he had always longed for such a connection and to what lengths he might go to keep what he had gained; to hide what he had been.  
  
And as Ezio’s shadowed face turned up and their eyes met,  _Vittorio_  held his gaze steadily, somehow managing to appear outwardly calm even though his chest still clenched with fear. He made to speak, knowing not how he could even hope to begin but the Maestro only held up a hand to stay his tongue, finally adding-  
  
“It is fine to have secrets Vittorio... I have my own... Keeping things private does not violate the Creed unless maintaining your secrets forces you to kill innocents; or reveal yourself to our enemies; or cause harm your Brothers and Sisters. You understand this, I know that you do... so be at ease. Soon you will be branded one of us. You will be a full ranked member of the Brotherhood and secret guarding is a very useful ability... one an Assassin in this age should keep well honed.”  
  
 _Vittorio_  closed his mouth with a click of teeth, his eyes wide in the concealing shadows of his hood as Ezio finished speaking and broke the long gaze between them to cast his eyes instead up into the inky heavens. Slowly  _Vittorio's_  muscles began to relax and his belly unclenched; his heartbeat slowed, returning to normal. The relief made him a bit giddy and he laughed suddenly, drawing Ezio’s eyes down from the stars and onto him again, the dim light glinting off the Maestro’s teeth as he grinned, murmuring- “Your secrets, whatever they may be are still yours Vittorio. I know nothing more than what you have divulged, although I am curious enough about you to have done a little estimating.”  
  
He waited for  _Vittorio_  to motion for him to continue before schooling his expression into one of seriousness, leveling his gaze and studying  _Vittorio's_  face with his head tilted, as if that might provide a better angle with which to see more detail on his soul. “You’ve admitted to making a living at thievery for years so there would be your expert roof running and pickpocketing skills explained. Your swordsmanship  _might_ have been self taught but from your form I can only assume you were trained in it... Gilberto does not know you, so you must not have been a part of his guild... Cento Occhi perhaps... Nothing you have related of your past seems to account for the conflict I can see in your eyes much of the time. I wonder what it is you have done to end up with such a guilty conscience.... You are plainly at odds with your past, as I am. I suppose both you and I are haunted by that which we have done and also perhaps, that which we have failed to do... That which we  _still_  fall short of... That which we try each day to understand; to reconcile... Where we have been with where we are headed...”  
  
 _Vittorio_  was a bit stunned when the Maestro finally fell silent. Those last few statements had seemed more about Ezio himself than  _Vittorio_ , even if they were accurate to describe them both. Revelatory indeed, possibly more than the Maestro had intended.  
  
They each regarded the other for a long moment, staring each other down in the dark until  _Vittorio's_  horse nickered and shook her large head, making the metal fittings on her bridle chime. The wind across the open meadowland picked up, blowing the grasses and wildflowers into soft oceanic waves, silvered by the moonlight.  
  
“There is a good reason you are our Maestro.”  _Vittorio_  murmured, taking up the reins and turning his mount back onto the path.  
  
“I apologize if I assumed too much...” Ezio’s voice was soft behind him, nearly stolen by the light breeze.  
  
Laughing a little breathlessly,  _Vittorio_ , shook his head. “You did nothing of the kind, Ezio... I can find little fault with your assumptions, although I was never part of the Cento Occhi gang. Still I suppose that was a reasonable guess.” He smiled back over his shoulder and Ezio urged his horse to once again fall into pace alongside, continuing on their way to the crossing where they had agreed to part and enter the city separately.  
  
Buzzing with relief but still a little on edge,  _Vittorio_  resolved to keep his tone light and steer away from topics relating to his own past. Ezio was as observant and sharp minded as Marco was gifted in his senses and anything  _Vittorio_  said stood the possibility of revealing more than he was comfortable with. Fortunately, unlike with Marco, he could stop Ezio reading him by simply remaining silent rather than having to stay upwind...  
  
Strange though... the way it had sounded, it almost seemed as if he was being given pardon for any sordid prior dealings with the Templars or otherwise; as if it was inconsequential that he had been one of Cesare’s personal minions for nearly two years and had spent countless hours spying on the Assassins as they moved about Roma, studying their movements and tactics and practicing them himself. Even if the Maestro did not actually suspect him of being a Templar, the mention of the Cento Occhi had been plain. Ezio was well aware of the thief gang’s Templar affiliation but to _Vittorio's_  mind there was a large difference between a gang of cut-purses and miscreants pressed into service with threats and kept loyal with the promise of profits, compared with a successful freelance thief, carefully selected and rigorously trained to emulate the Assassins he now counted himself as one among...  
  
 _Vittorio_  feared that he was perhaps still a bit more Templar than Ezio might approve of having in the Brotherhood despite the earnestness of his convictions... But he was so  _close_... so close that if he could keep his secrets as Ezio had said then perhaps he could eventually leave them behind once and for all. He would try to escape them on his leap from the top of the hideout the following evening and if they followed him into the Tiber then he would drown them there and leave them at the bottom with the ghost of Il Lupo.  
  
They carried on their conversation then, as if the small confrontation on the moonlit path had never taken place, speaking of their intentions towards each other. Ezio made it plain that he would not be opposed to meeting  _Vittorio_  regularly, so long as it was kept discreet and casual; so long as  _Vittorio_  stayed true to his word and did not discuss their activities.  _Vittorio_  easily agreed and reaffirmed the promise he had made, adding slyly that he also intended to pursue others and that he hoped it wouldn’t be a problem. Ezio returned his smirk with snort and an amused shake of his hooded head, muttering-  
  
“Merda... Vittorio...  _Per favore_... you begin to remind me far too much of myself... _twenty years ago_...” He ran a hand over his face with an exaggerated sigh, slumping in his saddle as  _Vittorio_  rocked with laughter, his stolen horse whinnying in irritation.  
  
“First you think me possibly your offspring and now I am as yourself in your youth? Si...  _very interesting_ , Maestro.... Indeed it would appear that you have not changed  _too_  much in this respect over twenty years...” He crowed, dabbing his mirth-wet eyes with his sleeve while Ezio quietly cursed him even as he chuckled also.  
  
On a whim  _Vittorio_  asked- “What of Leonardo...?” instantly regretting having said it when Ezio stiffened, drawing up straight in his saddle and turning his head sharply to regard  _Vittorio_  from beneath his low drawn hood.  
  
“So you  _do_  believe those rumors... after all you have said of your skepticism...” Although there was still a slight smirk on the Maestro’s lips, his tone was harder than before, carrying little real humor and  _Vittorio_  found himself stuttering.  
  
“N-no! I was just... I wondered... F-forgive me, Maestro... I have heard many things... I do not know which sources are reliable... I take it by your reaction that all those stories regarding long term romantic affairs between you two are false then?” He felt sheepish and lowered his head, muttering further apologies and there was a protracted moment of heavy silence before Ezio spoke.  
  
“There is no romance between Leonardo and I.” Ezio faced forward again, his head inclined so that all but the very point of his nose was obscured by his hood as he withdrew even further beneath it; his voice devoid of inflection. “He is... he...” Ezio paused, muttering a low curse and  _Vittorio_  could almost hear his jaw creak as he clenched his teeth before letting out a slow breath and continuing. “Leonardo is a peaceful man... and I...I am...” Ezio ran a hand over his face, sighing. “He is not for me to claim...” Again he paused, shaking his head slowly. “Leonardo is... my good friend... a far better friend than I deserve... and he must not know how much I care for him... I  _hope_  he does not know... and if he does know then I hope he realizes  _why_  I pretend not to understand.”  
  
“You do have feelings for him then...”  _Vittorio_  grit his teeth against the tension of asking but he could not stop himself... Now that Ezio was talking,  _Vittorio_  wanted to keep him going and he chose not to examine too closely the rather shameful thrill he was getting over the Maestro’s honest admissions.  _Vittorio_  could easily imagine himself to be the only person Ezio might have divulged these truths to and that gave him a pleasurable tingle.  
  
Ezio’s hood fell back slightly as he looked again toward  _Vittorio_  and the moonlight illuminated the length of his nose and highlighted his shadowed eyes in wet silver. “Of course I do... I could not help it... so many years...” He sighed deeply, shaking his head. “But I cannot tell him... not now. It is  _far_  too late for both of us. What could we have together in any case...? With what I do, we are apart for months, even years at a time. To even see him is dangerous... He has already seen too much violence because of me... his life at risk because he helps me...  _I_  need Leonardo... he does not need me.” The man seemed genuinely stricken for a moment, his eyes darting unevenly, his mouth open as if to speak but uncertain of how to express what he felt. Finally Ezio’s shoulders fell and he turned forward again with a short sigh. “I can only grant Leonardo safety and the freedom to create the strange and absurd things which so enthrall his mind, by keeping to the Creed and resisting the control of the Templars. I must remain distant for his own safety. If Leonardo and I became lovers and the Templars found out, they would attempt to use him as leverage against me and I would not see him come to harm, but I also could not compromise the Brotherhood simply to save him, nor would he approve of me breaking the Creed on his behalf. No  _Vittorio_... despite how I feel for him, I cannot give Leonardo what he deserves...” He paused, breathing out and then muttering softly, as if to himself rather than  _Vittorio_ \- “I can only bring death, even to those who I love...”  
  
Silence fell and Ezio seemed deep in thought as they rode on.  _Vittorio_  frowned, lamenting his lack of any ability to offer comfort and let the Maestro ponder for a few moments while the crossroad loomed ahead, its crooked marker peaking over the next shallow rise. Finally  _Vittorio_  broke the stillness, lowly murmuring- “I apologize Maestro... I... I should have checked my tongue... forgive me.”  
  
Leather creaked as Ezio shifted and straightened up in the saddle, seeming to shake off his melancholy. “There is nothing to forgive... I long ago accepted these things... I just... usually do not speak of them... and I would not fault you even if you did believe what they say of Leonardo and I. Of course I have overheard many of the same stories that you have and even I must admit that some of them are very finely crafted and well justified... I could believe them myself if I did not already know better...” He chuckled then in a deep, mirthful way that told of a far darker amusement than the small smile on his face would indicate. “You might have noticed that I make no effort to stop their chatter. I trust you will keep this to yourself and not ruin their fun with the sad reality of it?” Ezio was nothing but easy smirking charm once again, pulling up on the reins and clicking his tongue.  
  
 _Vittorio_  cursed as the man suddenly urged his horse forth and was swiftly away down the path, peeling off to the right at the crossroad and waving a hand aloft as he pushed his mount up to a gallop. “Until tomorrow evening Vittorio!” He called back over his shoulder and  _Vittorio_  waved him off distractedly, rolling his eyes as he tried to calm his startled horse.  
  
As Ezio disappeared over the next little hillock  _Vittorio_  took a left at the signpost, keeping a leisurely pace and finding himself in no real hurry. With their activities at the range and the lateness of the hour he was bodily tired and pleasantly sore but his mind buzzed with an excitement he could not suppress. He needed to think; to process what had just happened. Approaching the same area where he had left the city earlier, he dismounted his ill-gotten steed and stroked her silky neck for a moment. From his pack he produced and apple and she took it from his open palm, chewing noisily. She seemed pleased so  _Vittorio_  gave her another affectionate pat and turned her loose, scaling the first wall with a path up he could find and letting his feet carry him over the roof-tops as they would.  
  
It was no real surprise where they took him...  
  
Just off Teodor’s bedroom there was a stone-tiled balcony adorned by iron trellises that drooped with leafy vines and from it  _Vittorio_  could make out the outline of the Officer in his wide bed, split by the many small diamond panes which comprised his ornate leaded windows. On his bureau, the low flames of several candles illuminated the room in a fluttering and haphazard way. There was clearly a draft around the window he now perched by and as the wind picked up slightly, he watched Teodor shift in his sleep, pulling his embroidered duvet tighter around his shoulders despite the temperate weather.  
  
Two of the candle flames guttered out...  
  
 _Vittorio_  eased himself down onto the floor and leaned back against the railing, concealed from the street below by the foliage and content to remain for a while and think on the events of the evening. Ezio had given quite a bit away either intentionally or not, and as a result  _Vittorio_  now felt he had a few more pieces of the fractured picture of his Maestro. But at the same time the man was only becoming a more worrying mystery. He would require much more study to understand but it was clear to  _Vittorio_  that he was quite damaged; carrying wounds so deep and old that he had likely ceased to even feel the pain of them; the agony simply becoming the new norm instead of fading.  
  
Before his time with the Templars  _Vittorio_  had met many people who had experienced similar losses to the ones Ezio had suffered; parents and siblings murdered... betrayals which had turned them into pariahs or displaced them from their homes and often  _Vittorio_  noticed that Ezio displayed surface characteristics like to the ones he had seen in those people. He showed a brave, even fearless demeanor; a cavalier attitude towards mortality; a preoccupation with physical pleasure; a tendency to bury emotions beneath wry humor... But unlike many he had seen fall to their despair, Ezio seemed to be highly motivated, doggedly fighting on through whatever difficulties presented themselves. Although respected and loved by his Brothers in the Order, he still seemed remote; surrounded but alone.  _Vittorio's_ chest tightened uncomfortably as he recalled Ezio’s words just before the confident and playful man which he was to the world came back to the surface.  
  
 _‘I can only bring death, even to those who I love...’_  
  
 _Vittorio_  did not know much about what had happened to Ezio’s father and brothers but thought that Ezio probably understood he was not to blame, nor could he have prevented the betrayal and execution. However the mark of their loss and perhaps more importantly the guilt from what he perceived to be his own failure to save them, was still very much upon him and would undoubtedly always remain... The guilt related to his uncle’s death likely weighed even more heavily upon him because even _Vittorio_  could conjecture that if Ezio had killed the Spaniard then the Borgia family would have been out of the Papacy and Cesare might not have been able to raise enough military backing to attack Monteriggioni, although with his father’s  _death_  as motivation, no one could claim to know this for certain...  
  
But Ezio had shown mercy then, more than the Creed demanded because he was trying to break the revenge cycle; because he understood that killing Rodrigo would not return what had been taken from him. Revenge and death had defined Ezio’s life for so many years... Deaths; not only of his closest friends, allies, and family members but also the deaths of all those he, himself had killed in his quest first for retribution and then finally in an endless campaign against the Templar Order and their designs on the world.  
  
Perhaps he thought that hands so covered in blood; so clenched in anger; so shaking with fear could never properly hold close a lover-  
  
or a sister;  
  
or a mother...  
  
That they could only reach out and then clench inward, afraid the stain would spread like a death-mark... like a curse...  _Vittorio_  thought perhaps by limiting his interactions with the people he cared for most, Ezio felt he was protecting them; preserving their lives by remaining distant where his influence would be less likely to touch them.  
  
Perhaps he was right...  
  
 _Vittorio_  thought on his own life, how it was becoming more difficult rather than less, for him to let go of his past. Each day he would hear stories or see people who reminded him of things he had done as Il Lupo and the deadened quality of emotion in his memories directly conflicted with the things he now felt... It made him slightly sick to recall how he had been, what he had been able to abide when he believed he had no choice. As when Ezio had mentioned Cipriano... Of course  _Vittorio_  had heard from the others what had befallen Francesco’s team... It had been a very recent occurrence at the time of his recruitment to the Brotherhood. They told of a fiery trap in which several Apprentices had been killed and both Francesco and Cipriano had been wounded, the latter gravely so.  
  
But  _Vittorio_  had known many of the details already... because he had  _been_  there. Il Lupo had watched the conflagration from a nearby tower. Now he could clearly remember the smell of the smoke, the screams of the dying and shouting of the guards. An explosion had shaken the stones beneath his feet... and as he had gripped the archway for support, the marksmen surrounding the two Assassini he now knew to have been Francesco and Cipriano, had fallen down dead. Smoke from the burning inn then obscured the roof from his view but he had just been able to make out shadowy forms inside the gray haze. A short time later the roof collapsed but Il Lupo had held no doubt that the two Assassins had escaped the inferno. He had departed his perch, flying across the rooftops to make an effort at tracking the wounded Assassins and their rescuers but he had ultimately discovered nothing.  
  
He now called Francesco Vecellio ‘Brother’... a man he had impassively watched nearly die on the roof of a burning inn only two months ago and it caused a conflict in his mind which nagged at him. It was not really guilt. He knew that the Assassins would just as emotionlessly have killed or watched Il Lupo die if their positions had been reversed, Francesco’s team had killed many Templar agents and caused much havoc before they were eventually tricked into the inn snare. It was only the lie of it that  _Vittorio_  agonized over now. He knew the names of every apprentice and Assassin he had ever chanced to spy out upon the rooftops and streets and once or twice even inside the Castello. As Il Lupo, he had considered thinning their numbers by quietly taking them alone when they strayed... like the wolf that was his namesake. However, he found they inspired an odd sort of respect in him, as other predators like himself, even as he imitated them. So, although he had not received any orders which prohibited killing them, he usually did not engage them, but only studied the ones he saw. His mission unless otherwise ordered was to observe but never to be seen; to learn and to copy; to become... and now here he was, less than a day from taking his Leap of Faith. Still, he had killed them when ordered. He had killed their allies. He had killed innocents... It was all very difficult to reconcile, as Ezio had observed. Everything had changed so fast; his life now bearing little resemblance to anything he had ever experienced before and he felt lost in it at times, guilt stricken over his past deeds and weighed down by the necessity of keeping them secret.  
  
His feelings for Teodor confused him as well. Teodor had offered his loyalty to the Assassins; offered to betray Cesare... and although  _Vittorio_  realized he shouldn’t, he still had difficulty believing that it was for him; that Teodor could really care that much for him. But similarly he could not see the mature and cautious Officer’s overture being any kind of whim or fancy and that he would not offer to take on such a dangerous mission without good reason. He tried to rationalize that affection had nothing to do with Teodor’s decision; that it was but a moral conflict. Teodor had once been a fairly devout man and the decadence and corruption of the Church might finally have become too much, or perhaps it was only Cesare’s irresponsibility and power-madness which drove Teodor from the Templar Order and not the wish to follow Il Lupo or help the Brotherhood... but in a deep and frightening place inside him, he  _knew_  better. Even if Teodor had not said it, the Officer’s gestures had been plain enough for even someone as emotionally inexperienced as himself to understand.  
  
 _Vittorio_  rested his arms on his upraised knees, pillowing his head and wondered when it had changed... when it was that he began to take whatever he could get from Teodor instead of the other way around...  
  
 _Vittorio_  thought he could empathize with Ezio somewhat... He could not help but feel guilty and terrified that Teodor was taking such risks; could not help but to think that the Officer might have been better off if he had continued to believe Il Lupo dead. As much as it pained  _Vittorio's_  heart to ponder it, if he could simply stop contacting Teodor; if he made certain to never be spotted by the man again; if he could ignore the signals he would be sure to see upon the Pasquino... If he could bring himself to turn away, then Teodor might be safe, having not been named in Fiora’s list, the Assassins might leave him be...  
  
But  _Vittorio_  realized as he leaned his head against the window frame and watched Teodor’s chest rise and fall slowly in the flickering light of the last candle, that he could not do any of those things. He supposed that he was not as strong as Ezio, or perhaps he was just not yet as practiced at losing people... because he had no experience with having someone to lose...  _Vittorio_  knew that he could not walk away and he knew that such a choice could not be made for Teodor.  
  
Even Il Lupo, as deadened as he had been inside, had  _cared_  for Teodor.  
  
 _Vittorio loved him._  
  
Strangely enough, admitting it to himself quieted his mind and for a time he simply sat and breathed along with the man inside the darkened room, his cheek pressed against the cool glass and his eyes tracking over the many split images he saw through the beveled window panes until all he could resolve of what lay beyond the transparent barrier was light and shadow cut into many diamonds... then large, diffuse, luminous globes... and then nothing...  
  
“You could have come inside you know...”  
  
Coming awake with a jolt,  _Vittorio_  cracked the back of his hooded head against the iron rail. He rolled up to a crouch and rubbed at the lump, cursing lowly and craning his neck to look upwards at the source of the soft laughter which had followed the sleep-roughened voice. The balcony door stood open and Teodor held a twist of burning wick up to light a lantern hanging on the vine covered wall, barefoot and wearing a deep blue dressing gown over his knee length sleeping shift, his hair tousled and hanging in his eyes. As the Officer turned back towards him,  _Vittorio_ approached slowly, drawing his hood back so his face was revealed. It was dark and beyond the iron balcony railing  _Vittorio_  could see the rooftops litten still by white moonlight. He was relieved that he had not slept for too long but irritated with himself for falling so lax even in relative safety. What if he had slept on until morning and the maid had discovered him when she threw open the doors to air the room?  _Stupido..._  
  
The bump on his head still throbbed slightly and he again gingerly prodded at it with his fingers and Teodor tilted his head, frowning in concern. “Lup... Ah...V-  _Vittorio_... are you injured...? Teodor took a step toward him and  _Vittorio_  shook his head smiling.  
  
“It is only a bump... Certainly I have had far worse.” He smirked and Teodor snorted, rolling his eyes.  
  
“I did not mean mortally...” He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed in amusement, a lopsided smile on his face as  _Vittorio_  bowed exaggeratedly, brushing the stone flags with his gloved fingertips.  
  
“I am fine Teodor... better than, even... I... just wanted to see you. I did not intend to fall asleep or to be discovered here. Why are you even awake?” He allowed himself to be drawn close and enfolded in Teodor’s strong arms. The warmth coupled with the closeness of the Officer’s barely clothed body gave him a slight thrill and _Vittorio_  pressed himself against Teodor intimately, rocking his hips ever so slightly, almost unconsciously .  
  
“Shameless...” Teodor chuckled softly, his breath tickling  _Vittorio's_  ear, fingers working their way into his hair, gripping it as the tie fell away.  _Vittorio_  gasped softly as his head was tilted back and Teodor’s lips touched the skin beneath his jaw, but it was only a brief kiss and then his hair was released and Teodor gently pulled away, grasping  _Vittorio's_  gloved hand as he did. “I awoke at the urging of nature only to see you nodding at my window... Come inside  _Vittorio_... I am glad you are here.”  
  
 _Vittorio_  allowed himself to be led wordlessly, pulling the glass door closed behind them and when it clicked shut he spun the officer back against him with a sly grin, pulling him in with fingers twisted into the folds of his dressing gown. Teodor’s body met his forcefully, bruising against armor and belts and weapons and  _Vittorio_  could feel the man going hard even through the layers of clothing which separated them; could feel Teodor’s shuddering breath as he drew closer. It never took much encouragement for Teodor to want him,  _Vittorio_  mused with a bit of pride. He did not know if the man entertained other lovers but Teodor’s passion for Il Lupo had always been fresh and raw when they met, as if he had been waiting for ages each time. It had only been a year or possibly a year and a half that they had been involved, meeting briefly and infrequently at first; one seeking the other when longing became too great to resist, and they eventually both admitted they desired it and began to meet more often by arrangement. Usually Lupo would come to Teodor’s window but in an unheard of gesture of trust, he had shown the Officer his own home and shared with him the secret way to access it without being seen.  
  
It was after he had observed that disastrous horse race between Cesare and Donato and Teodor’s failed attempt to disable the Captain on Cesare’s order. Il Lupo had intercepted him along his route away from the track and conducted the dazed man to his own parlor. There he had treated a wound which the back of Cesare’s armored glove left across Teodor’s cheek. Il Lupo had cursed Cesare that day for the first time even as Teodor gently chastised him for it, muttering that it was only what he deserved for his failure. Il Lupo did not argue with him but he had not been certain he could agree, nor could he abide Cesare laying a hand upon Teodor in any fashion anymore.  
  
 _Vittorio_  was glad that Teodor had now joined him in standing against the Templars and Cesare in particular. The Borgias were not fit to rule over Italia and Cesare was not fit to command a person as noble as Teodor.  _Vittorio_  found that he could fight for both reasons.  
  
Teodor, slightly taller than he, again tilted his face up with gentle fingers beneath his chin and their lips slid together, already parted to allow their tongues to meet and slip easily past each other and  _Vittorio_  found himself leaning desperately into the Officer, his body beginning to heat up despite having been so recently satisfied.  _Vittorio_ groaned as Teodor’s hand left his chin and joined its mate in sliding down his back to draw him closer.  
  
Kissing Ezio had been like giving in to a craving; like savoring a rare but entirely indulgent and quite possibly unhealthy vice. Kissing Teodor was like finally being able to quench a parching thirst. It was more than refreshing, more than sweet, more than blissful. It was so absolutely necessary that it almost hurt. He flushed with the heat in his blood and shivered when parts of him which were still somewhat sore tensed and twinged as he became aroused.  _Vittorio_  did not wish for Teodor to discover what he had been up to with Ezio but although his body was weary from it, the muscles in his thighs and abdomen still occasionally twitching from their fatigue, for Teodor he thought he could probably find the strength... Still, even having bathed afterward _Vittorio_  feared it would be obvious what he had recently done, should he allow Teodor to undress him. Within a day the marks from Ezio’s teeth on his neck would fade but it had only been an hour, perhaps two... He did not want Teodor to see and he didn’t want to analyze these things as they happened but he could not help doing it.  
  
Since his resurrection he often felt as if he were truly more than just one person, viewing events from within his own mind but also as an outsider. knowing his instincts were still intact but that his reactions were different and the processes by which he made decisions had been altered by his environment. He was different, he knew it. It affected every thought he had and at times he wanted to hold his hands over his ears and sing to silence his mind; to stop the constant comparisons. But Teodor seemed to accept  _Vittorio's_  passion as gracefully as he had Il Lupo’s hesitant, cool affection. Teodor was the only one who bridged the rift in him. Teodor was the only one who made him feel complete, abiding the person he had been and embracing the person he now was.  
  
He did not know why he wished to hide the evidence of his other liaisons from Teodor, The Officer had never in the past requested that he be faithful and indeed until just a few short days ago he had believed Il Lupo murdered. That he was in fact, alive had been the real shock, perhaps not so much that he had other lovers.  _Vittorio_ did not know if Teodor would care and part of him did not wish to find out. If he discovered it and was upset and hurt, it would be terrible! But if  _Vittorio_  told him and he did not care? What would it mean...? Did he wish to know if Teodor carried on with others? He was unsure. It seemed he was unsure about many things recently.  
  
Like who he was... really, at his core... An Assassin or just a very good actor...?  
  
 _Vittorio_  liked to think that given enough time he might have left the Templars on his own, Teodor had been his turning point, not the “death” of Il Lupo. It had begun with his affection for and loyalty to Teodor. His general distaste for Cesare which had only grown following the horse race. Fiora had provided him an exit and then Dottore and Roberto and the Brotherhood had given him the support and freedom and guidance to fill in the rest.  _Vittorio_  knew he was far from perfect, he was still a killer and a thief and a bit of a scoundrel but he could feel and he could love and he could live by the Creed even though he had been a Templar. He could save Teodor and help Ezio and be a brother to Giovanni and Marco and Francesco. He could win over Luciana and become a great Assassin.  _Vittorio_  could do all these things while Il Lupo could only follow orders to kill and ruin.  
  
They pulled slowly away from each other, lightly panting over lips still parted with foreheads pressed together and Teodor smiled, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, leaning in and swiftly kissing him again. It was just a firm press of lips though and then he pulled away, leading  _Vittorio_  over to a comfortable chair by the fireplace which in the warmth of summer was unlit but had a collection of candles burning upon the hearth for light. There was a decanter of wine and two glasses which after motioning him to take a seat, Teodor leaned over to fill.  
  
Removing his sword-belt and laying it aside,  _Vittorio_  sat.  
  
“I had planned to seek you out in the morning but since you are here I suppose we can do this now.” Teodor settled into the chair facing him and offered a glass, which _Vittorio_  accepted, sipping slowly, his urgent desire for the man ebbing to the back of his mind, although the Officer was still enticingly under-dressed.  _Vittorio_  was enjoying the view quite a bit and Teodor must have noticed his leer because he clicked his tongue, and with a half smile drew his dressing gown closed over his knees.  _Vittorio_ huffed, amused and sipped his wine again, arching an eyebrow.  
  
Teodor quirked his mouth once more and looked him up and down before speaking softly. “I began to think the other night was a dream... Once I arrived home I could scarcely believe you had come to me; that I had touched you again... I could still feel you against me long after you departed  _Vittorio_.” Teodor paused, smirking in a way that made  _Vittorio_  flush across his cheeks and lower his eyes. He sipped his wine, clearing his throat and Teodor also tilted his glass, drinking then humming in pleasure as his eyes tracked over  _Vittorio's_  face. “Indeed, the longer I thought on it the more unreal it all seemed. Still, even though I could not be sure I was even sane, I managed to discover some information that you might find interesting. I trust you to do with it what you must.” Teodor set his glass aside and  _Vittorio_  straightened up, looking him in the eyes again and nodding.  
  
“Of course Teodor... What is it?”  _Vittorio_  cocked his head, setting his own wine aside and clasping his hands between his knees. He leaned forward as Teodor spoke lowly even though they were quite alone.  
  
“I heard from a reliable source that the Pope has seized the remainder of the cantarella in the Castel Sant’ Angelo. I believe he intends to murder Cesare as soon as he returns. As you already know, with the recent death of the Baron de Valois, Cesare lost the support of the French army and I am fairly certain that he has been cut off financially because his Banker was killed at the beginning of the month... also I have not been paid..” Teodor paused and took up his wine glass again, draining it and then inspecting the empty vessel with a squinted eye, sighing as he set it aside.  _Vittorio_  just gaped until he continued. “I believe the best Cesare can expect is demotion and exile, but I assume he will simply be killed by poison upon his arrival. The Pope is expecting his return sometime in the next few days. That said, I feel I can also assume my term of employ is over. I will be leaving Cesare’s service, as you recommended... Welcome to my retirement party.”  _Vittorio's_  heart clenched in his chest and he sputtered.  
  
“Teodor... I... What will you do? You are not leaving Roma...?” He must have looked as stricken as he felt at the prospect because Teodor reached out across the brief distance between them and cupped his cheek, smiling softly. Teodor tilted his head and drew his eyebrows together, stroking a thumb over  _Vittorio’s_  lower lip.  
  
“No Vittorio. I will not leave Roma... or you.”  
  
He could not hold his deep sigh of relief, sagging back in his chair as Teodor slowly withdrew his hand.  _Vittorio_  just covered his now damp eyes, trying to calm his breathing and slow his racing heart. He heard Teodor rise and cross the room to his wardrobe; the rustling as the man dressed. It was ridiculous how much he had come to need Teodor. In such a short period of time. Literally he had gone from numb acceptance that he would never again see the man to absolute terror at even an  _implication_  that he might lose him once more. What was happening?  _Vittorio_  couldn’t help but wonder how so called- ‘ordinary people’ coped with all the feelings they experienced day to day; feelings they had never been trained to suppress; feelings which were never beaten out of them by the circumstances of their lives...? Did one just become used to it? More and more  _Vittorio_  was beginning to think that his near death experience had really knocked  _something crucial_  loose inside his head.  
  
Kneading his tired eyes  _Vittorio_  sighed again, his heartbeat returning to a steady pulse and his cold sweat slowly drying. This day had been long and filled with wild extremes of emotion for  _Vittorio_. It had left him feeling physically battered and exhausted, as if he had survived a wild ride on a runaway horse-cart. He raised his wine glass with a shaking hand and quickly drained it before setting it aside.  
  
Strange how Teodor’s simple promise had released his tension and dispelled his doubts but at the same time had caused his blood to chill with fear and concern.  _Vittorio_  was elated that Teodor was with him against the Borgias but he knew he could allow no harm to come to the man. He understood that their relationship was strange and no longer wished to question why he adored Teodor, or why Teodor felt anything for him in return. Truthfully they did not even really know each other, despite having been lovers for more than a year. Their Templar masks had been only slightly lifted in all that time and  _Vittorio_  still could not be certain that he was even himself. He had been so weak back then, easily molded into the shape Baltasar and Fiora designed, convinced of his identity even though it was the worst type of lie.  
  
He was unsure that Il Lupo and  _Vittorio_  could even be considered the same man.  
  
But despite all that, at the time they met, Teodor and Il Lupo had each seen something in the other and even as they changed, forced to adapt to their tumultuous situation; that thing was surviving and evolving beyond them. More than that, it was drawing them both along with it and revealing shades of themselves that neither might have ever suspected were there.  
  
Teodor would realistically be much safer were he to leave Roma and avoid the coming storm but the former Officer had willingly cast his lot in with the Assassins. Assuming the Pope’s plan was carried out and Cesare was murdered, Rodrigo himself would also be soon to die, most likely by an Assassin’s blade.  _Vittorio_  did not think Ezio intended to grant the Spaniard mercy a second time. The remaining Templars could be routed from power after that and then... then it might be safe to reveal to the Assassins; reveal to Ezio his strange story...  
  
When Teodor returned he was clad in a simple shirt and breaches, his hair combed. He refreshed their wine and settled back into his chair with an amused hum as  _Vittorio_ gratefully raised his glass and gulped.  
  
“Need anything stronger? I have some Grappa if you’d prefer...” Chuckling as  _Vittorio_ shook his head, Teodor sipped from his own glass with much more delicacy. “Are you certain you’re alright, Lup- Ah.. Mi dispiace,  _Vittorio_. I do apologize, sincerely. I am having a little trouble getting used to your new name...”  
  
 _Vittorio_  quickly set his glass down and leaned forward to clasp Teodor’s free hand, raising it and brushing his knuckles with smiling lips. “I am well, honestly! It has just been a very trying day... full of many shocks and many feelings that I am having difficulty resolving. I do not think I could properly explain...” The chair creaked as he released Teodor’s hand and sat back again, brushing his loose fall of hair behind his left ear. “And do not worry over my name. You are still welcome to call me Lupo. I do not mind it, as long as it is you, Teodor.”  
  
 _Vittorio_  smiled brightly then, causing Teodor to do the same and as if hoisted by marionette strings they both rose suddenly and embraced,  _Vittorio's_  cheek pressed against Teodor’s shoulder, slouching so that the slightly taller man’s chin could easily rest atop his head. They folded their arms around each other and just held on for a few moments in silence before  _Vittorio_  spoke again, turning his face upwards so that he could meet Teodor’s eyes.  
  
“The list of people who even know that I was once called Il Lupo grows short indeed. When Cesare is killed you will be the last person remaining with whom I share that past... and the only person from my time with the Templars who I care for... ” As he finished speaking a troubled look darkened Teodor’s eyes and  _Vittorio_  frowned in concern, pushing himself back slightly, his heart again picking up speed and strength in its rhythm. “What is it Teodor?”  
  
“That list may well be longer than you suspect...Lupo.” Teodor’s lips pulled around the name as he uttered its syllables and his expression was rueful and apologetic despite having been given express permission to use it. “Let us sit down and have some more wine and I will tell you another story.” He did not look terribly upset and instead appeared just worried and uncomfortable and  _Vittorio_  had a feeling that he knew what was coming as they disentangled their arms and retook their seats..  
  
“It’s Fiora isn’t it? She is alive.” Oddly, he found the notion didn’t concern him as much as he would have thought.  
  
“She is.” Teodor admitted, lofting his eyebrows and gazing over the upraised rim of his glass.  
  
“Where has she gone? She cannot possibly still be in Roma if Cesare knows of her betrayal.”  _Vittorio_  muttered into his wine. He had been wrong, it did concern him that she was alive, although he no longer wished to kill her. Il Lupo had known many reasons to loathe Fiora and desire her death by his blade. She had taken everything from him, beginning with his admittedly harsh but largely innocent life of street thievery and highway robbery. He had only killed in self-defense before she had approached him with an offer of status and money... of a new life with the Templar Order... The life of a merciless predator. And she had ultimately taken that life away from him as well. But  _Vittorio_  could not blame her. He did not really hate Fiora, he just wanted to leave his past behind completely and while she lived, such a thing was not entirely possible. She knew his Templar identity; she knew about who he had been before and she knew everything that could now ruin him. She had been his murderer but she had also been his savior in the end. Without her betrayal, Il Lupo would not now be  _Vittorio_ ; hours from being fully initiated into the Assassin Brotherhood; would not have the support and loyalty of Ezio Auditore and the other Assassins; would not have the choice and freedom and faith he had now. He would not have Teodor in the way he did now, free and unfettered by the necessity of remaining an enigma. Fiora may have known all his secrets but there was one thing about him she did not know.  
  
She did not know he was still alive.  
  
“She is indeed still in Roma... She is a prisoner. You see, a few weeks ago, I assume shortly after your ‘murder’... she was caught inside the Castello, attempting to steal an artifact of great value from Cesare. It seems his son thought she was there to play and was, I suppose accidentally, responsible for alerting Cesare and foiling the robbery... I know that she was interrogated quite thoroughly but even under torture and threat of execution by public beheading she gave up nothing of any worth regarding the Assassins, other than to boast of the scope of her treachery. She claimed responsibility for feeding the Assassins information about Templars who were subsequently killed and she apparently described your murder by her own hand in detail, which was not at all what Cesare had been expecting. I suppose Fiora assumed she would be killed regardless of what she said. She did  _know_  Cesare after all... but possibly intending to return for another go, he left her alive and tasked me as her jailer.” Teodor paused to top up his glass and drink a little more deeply. He exhaled a hard breath and frowned at his reflection in the wine.  
  
“And did she give  _you_  anything useful?”  _Vittorio_  swirled the wine left in his glass absently, looking through it to some invisible point beyond.  
  
“I was not involved in her interrogation or torture and I had no particular inclination to speak with her afterward because I believed she had  _murdered_  you.” Teodor’s voice had a slight waspish bite to it but he soon calmed and brushed his hair back over one ear. He sighed, knitting his brow. “I am not an evil man, despite what I might have done in my life.”  
  
“I know that, I did not mean to imply...”  _Vittorio_  muttered, abashed.  
  
The former Officer raised his head and smiled weakly. “My faith in God may have been ruined but I do not think that a viable reason to completely abandon morality. I summoned a doctor to tend her injuries and after that I largely left her alone but for to see that she was given some bread and wine each day.” Teodor fell silent and looked off to the side with eyes unfocused in thought for a moment before adding- “But to answer your question, yes, she did give me something useful, just not about the Assassins... well, maybe about one...” Teodor smiled. “It was Fiora who gave me the symbol I used to call you out, I asked for it under the explanation that Cesare did not believe her tale of killing you and wanted to see for himself if you would appear when summoned. She did not hesitate to relinquish it to me, scoffing at Cesare’s foolishness as she did. I apologize for lying to you about how I obtained it... I was not certain I could mention Fiora at the time... I did search Baltasar's ruined shop in hopes of discovering a way to reach you but what I found was spoiled beyond legibility.”  
  
“Why did you...? Why did you seek me? You saw that I had survived my murder and joined the Assassins... Did you not think I might betray you also? That I might hurt you?”  _Vittorio_  hadn’t realized just how much he wished to know the answer until the question had been asked. It had been simmering in the back of his mind since the day of their meeting at the Colle Palatino. Unlike with Fiora, Il Lupo had always more or less trusted Teodor. The man had kept their secret well for more than a year; had seen him at his most unguarded and vulnerable and had never taken any advantage. After they had admitted they desired each other it had been unspoken but agreed that they would not be Officer and Prowler when they were together, they would be Teodor and Lupo and as much as was possible they had relaxed their masks with each other. “Did you not see me as your enemy, Teodor? Why turn against the Templars? It would have been safer to simply disappear...”  
  
“It was because you were  _alive_  that I sought you! I did not even consider... I am just... I haven’t ever... ” Teodor paused, frowning; seeming to struggle internally over admissions as much as  _Vittorio_  did his own. Trepidation was clear upon his face as he quietly murmured- “You may have noticed how  _fond_  I am of you, Lupo...” reaching across the distance between them to comb  _Vittorio's_  long fringe back with his warm fingertips and  _Vittorio_  felt his cheeks heat, nodding with his eyes downcast. Only Teodor could so easily cause him to experience such  _bashfulness_. How long since he had felt innocent and young?  
  
Teodor made him feel that way again.  
  
They reached forward and clasped each other’s hands almost unconsciously as Teodor continued. “I suppose in the beginning, I only wanted some kind of affirmation that Fiora’s betrayal, which you had obviously survived, was the reason you left me behind... I wanted to know if you had another justification for allowing me to think you dead and gone...or if you had simply moved on. It was entirely selfish at first. I will admit that I was angry. I was still mourning your death after all... then to see you not only alive but slaying your former allies... It was indeed a shock, but when we met at the Colle Palatino... after seeing how genuine your conviction was; how in only a few weeks time the Assassins had wrought such a massive change in you. Your  _warmth_  so surprised me that I- I lost everything I had prepared! I had given it careful thought before leaving the symbol on the Pasquino... what I would say to you should you come, what I would ask you of the life you now lead, what I was looking for in your responses. Among other things, I wished to determine where your loyalties lay, if in fact any existed; to see if your infiltration of the Assassin Brotherhood was a trick or an actual shift of allegiance... I- I truly never considered that you might harm me...” Again Teodor paused, freeing a hand from  _Vittorio's_  and dabbing his eyes with a shirt cuff. He cleared his throat, his voice cracking with emotion as he tried to speak.  _Vittorio_  thought he could feel his own heart breaking with it.  
  
After a moment the former Officer breathed in deeply, meeting  _Vittorio's_  eyes again and each could see that the other’s were glistening wetly in the low candle light. “When you embraced me... I had never seen such passion from you Lupo... I had never seen  _tears_  in your eyes, mio Dio...” Teodor again swiped a hand across his eyes to clear away the mist there. “I considered leaving the Templars and betraying Cesare because I believe the Borgias are destroying Roma and if allowed to continue they will ruin all of Italia as well and I have come to realize that the Templars goal of unity and peace... while admirable, is soured to unpalatability by their methods and their message of blind devotion and ignorance of reason. I know not whether the Assassin’s agenda will yield sweeter fruit for Roma but they could do no worse than the Spanish Pope and his disgraceful spawn. I had only to see you to determine my path...  _Vittorio_... I had only to look into your eyes to see what I needed and when I did look, I saw real faith where none had ever been before. I saw sorrow and regret and affection and pride and so many things there and it filled me with hope like I had not felt in years. Sanity and safety be damned. I could have made this decision for many good reasons but in the end it was only because I saw that you did not wish to be... finished... with me.” Teodor dropped his eyes away and coughed into his hand, his cheeks coloring lightly with embarrassment.  
  
 _Vittorio_  also flushed, feeling undeserving and bemused; but at the same time buoyed up with an odd, hopeful joy. A sensation of warmth filling his chest and making his head feel light. Again he reached for Teodor’s hands and squeezed them gently, stroking his thumbs across the man’s glove-smoothed knuckles. He smiled fondly down, examining the fine, strong fingers which had held him so surely and tenderly in the past. Truly  _Vittorio_  thought he would do whatever Teodor might ask of him; anything he could accomplish without breaking the Creed, for Teodor he would... willingly, gladly.... “No, I do not wish to be finished with you, Teodor. I’m going to get you out of this, I swear it. And as an ally of the Assassin Brotherhood you will understand why I have changed so significantly.” Teodor was gazing softly at him when he finally looked up from their clasped hands. For a moment it seemed as if he might speak but instead he simply lifted  _Vittorio's_  hands to his lips and kissed the backs of his fingers reverently.  
  
This time they came together with ferocity, mouths clashing and devouring, bodies pressed hard together with hands twisted into the folds of clothing; with low harmonizing sounds of want which faded into minor chords of apology as they then pulled slowly apart, licking their moist lips. Still they held on for a long moment, and Teodor’s fingers carded soothingly through his hair as their racing blood calmed, until they reluctantly released each other.  
  
 _Vittorio_  kissed Teodor again quickly on the mouth and stepped back, smiling. He stooped to retrieve his sword belt, quickly fastening it in place. “If you need to see me or leave me a message or you need a place to hide, dress in simple clothing, as of a commoner and seek Roberto, the proprietor of the Gallo Inn. It is in the Centro District near the water. He will conduct you to my room if you ask for me by my full name- Vittorio Vitelli.” He slung his pack over one shoulder and fastened it out of the way so he could still climb.  
  
Teodor nodded. “I will make certain I am not followed.”  
  
“I must go now. I beg you to take care Teodor. Do not return to the Castello. Avoid any Templars who remain alive and also disguise yourself to avoid the attention of my Brothers for even though you were not named in Fiora’s list you might still be in danger from the Assassins as they do not yet know you are an ally. I  _will_  work out a way to explain all... this...”  _Vittorio_  made a vague, encompassing gesture and smiled ruefully. “It may just take some time...”  
  
“I understand, Vittorio. Until I see you again, be cautious and keep yourself well and I will do the same.”  _Vittorio’s_  hood was tugged carefully into place over his loose hair as he looked up and he caught Teodor’s hands after they smoothed it on each side. There was a moment when their eyes met that  _Vittorio_  nearly lost the strength to depart. He longed to stay; to drop his pack and weapons and fall onto that lovely feather mattress with Teodor’s warm weight atop him and he could see the same desire burning in Teodor’s gaze as it swept over his shadowed face. But the other’s stoic restraint bolstered his own and he gave the fingers he grasped a final delicate squeeze before letting go and turning for the door.  
  
Time was running short and their admissions would have to be enough to carry them until next they met-  
  
If they should both survive what was to come.  


 

~O~


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vittorio and Luciana have a conversation and later are both initiated into the Brotherhood.

 

Chapter Warnings: A bit of emotional stress and a tiny bit of flirting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I need to speak to you...”

 She turned sharply at the sound of his voice. Too surprised to properly affix her customary scowl she only blinked widely at him as her hand caught the large silver pendant that hung around her neck in a strange gesture. Her expression, for a split second before she realized who had spoken, was that of a person who long ago became accustomed to hearing bad news, stoic resignation already in place even before knowing the message.

 But it was over as soon as it began and fully registering who stood before her, Luciana sneered, dropping her hands to her sides in balled fists. “What do you want?” She hissed, all the more fierce for having been caught in an instant of vulnerability and in the face of her scorn, _Vittorio_ could feel the words he had been preparing all morning slipping away into a rising anger.

Il Lupo had been necessarily dispassionate in nearly every situation but _Vittorio_ had abandoned that unhealthy reserve. It had freed him from a great burden but he had sacrificed the advantages Il Lupo’s emotional desolation had granted. He was relatively even tempered and logical by nature but Luciana’s unreasonable attitude made a fire rise in his blood. This was not beginning well, even taking into consideration that; as he had intimated to Ezio the previous evening, he had not expected to even be granted a chance to use charm on Luciana.

 So instead he simply drove for the core of the problem without preamble.

 “I want to know what I have done to deserve such consuming hatred. I want to understand what it is about me that so infuriates you. You are the only person to treat me this way. Why? What do you want me to do?” By the end he was almost shouting, or would have been if he had not managed to maintain a near whisper in the quiet hall. Luciana’s eyes were wide in surprise but only for a moment before the scorn returned and _Vittorio_ grit his teeth, breathing deeply through his nose to calm his anger. It irritated him that he could feel heat on his cheeks; frustration and discomfiture getting the better of him.

 He had to remain calm though. The situation demanded resolution and _Vittorio_ preferred that it remain only between them, if at all possible. Although, the notion had occurred to him, of inviting in a neutral third party if this didn't end up going well and by the hard look in Luciana’s eyes _Vittorio_ thought perhaps he should find an arbiter to simply settle things quickly between them... It would be impossible to properly communicate or work together if she refused to even speak to him in a civil tone!

 "I don't need to explain myself to you, stronzo." Her voice was a growl but her eyes fell from his to petulantly track over the tile pattern and _Vittorio_ glowered briefly.

 But he let his perturbation dissipate by breathing in deeply, releasing the air in a sigh. "So, there is no reason? You are simply a hateful person and have chosen me at random to be the target of your ire? Is that it Luciana?" He did his best to keep his tone even. Anger and accusation would not well serve him in this situation.

 But it was no use. She looked back up quickly, scowling even more fiercely, a muscle in her jaw visibly twitching as she ground her teeth. "Of course not bastardo! I have reason enough..."

 "If you would like to rematch in the pickpocket test..." He began, nearly pleading but she cut him off with a sharp click of tongue and a rude gesture..

 "You think it is simply because you bested me?” She snapped, eyes flashing for a moment before they flattened, resignation overtaking her expression as she looked away; and then in a softer tone. “Fool... You know nothing..." Again she glared at the floor but this time her cheeks burned with something other than anger and _Vittorio_ saw it. He felt the tension in her speech, it filled the spaces left by the words she was not saying, but if it was not the test then what?

 So he began again without the pretense of cordiality, folding his arms across his chest and snapping- "You will have to forgive me for making such an assumption. The pickpocket test has been our only actual interaction. I cannot be expected to know of all the imaginary ways in which I have wronged you in your mind." The sarcasm might have been uncalled for but _Vittorio_ no longer cared. This was getting ridiculous and if the Maestro meant for he and Luciana to work effectively as a team, _Vittorio_ felt he had to get to the bottom of the schism between them. Even if they never became friends, It was necessary to have professional cooperation, for the good of the Brotherhood.

 At his tone she raised her eyes again but this time her expression was different, still angry but also bemused, as if contemplating her actions and words for the first time. And then to _Vittorio's_ complete surprise her mouth curled up at one corner in a sardonic smile and her posture lost much of its rigid tension. Luciana half turned away from him and slumped against the wall and there was stillness between them for a time. _Vittorio_ began to fear she had simply dismissed him but after a moment she spoke.

 "I still don't know how you beat me.” Luciana shook her head as if still in disbelief. “Because of its purpose, that test isn't even fair. I have been performing the pickpocket trial for new recruits since even before... Tessa... was killed.” Her voice quavered slightly as she formed the name of her departed mentor but she recovered her composure and continued without looking up. “That test is in place so that recruits learn that they cannot always easily be victorious! That sometimes there will be... unexpected threats... But you... You were so quick... so skilled... You took my place and I became the recruit; learning my own lesson... Since that day he has looked at no one but you..." As she finished, her face was hidden in the shadows of her hood but  _Vittorio_ could hear her expression in her voice.

 He...? Who..? _Vittorio_ thought she might mean Maestro Ezio but it was a very vague reference and the Maestro hadn't even been at the pickpocket trial... It had only been he and Marco and the marks in the crowd...

 So it wasn't that she was simply angry at him for being a better thief or that she desired attention from him... He was in the way.

  _‘Oh....’_

 He was between Luciana and Marco.

  _V_ _ittorio_ thought very quickly over how to proceed before responding. This could easily turn into an ugly mess if he wasn't careful with his words... However, nothing brilliant came to him and so fearing to lose the opportunity, he plunged ahead... “It is not actually like that...” She glanced his way with a skeptical expression but didn't interrupt. “I happen to know he thinks very highly of you... Marco I mean...” She turned back to face him with an eyebrow raised dangerously and he barreled on with his explanation, feeling sweat begin to break out on his brow. “Believe me! There is naught between Marco and I but an affectionate friendship and some suggestive banter, truthfully Luciana! He does not flirt solely with me either! He just has... an abundance of... personality... And even if he does desire me... I...uh... I am already involved with someone else...” By the time he trailed off Luciana was fully facing him again, her expression unreadable. She looked him up and down, pausing to examine his face for a long moment.

 “Why are you are trying to placate me?” Again her hand went unconsciously to the pendant and her expression was one of apprehension, but the anger and distrust from before had mostly evaporated.

 “I assure you I am only trying to eliminate misunderstanding. I would have things clear between us because you are my sister and I do not wish to be enemies.” _Vittorio_ smiled reassuringly and gestured to the sofa in the armory nearby. They made their way to it, taking seats at either end and angling their bodies to face each other. _Vittorio_ sighed with relief, feeling much of the tension the confrontation had caused begin to ebb away as they talked. It was all going so well now that he thought briefly upon reconsidering the divine.

 “Why did you approach me about this now?” She inquired and _Vittorio_ frowned, his resurgence of faith overturned by the question. He considered what he had been told of their impending assignment together with Marco but he was not certain it was his place to inform her if she had not yet spoken to the Maestro but he also thought of the fragile peace he had somehow managed to forge between himself and Luciana...

 “I am not certain I can say...?” He hedged, making another placating gesture but this was apparently not what Luciana wished to hear and Vittorio was certain he visibly cringed when her lips pursed and her brow lowered.

 “Vittorio, I have only just begun not despising you. Would it not be best to avoid testing the strength of untempered steel?” Her hood now shadowed her eyes but _Vittorio_ could see their dangerous flash and her voice had an edge that clipped her words sharp. He swallowed past his constricting throat, his heart beginning to race again and he could feel droplets of sweat sliding down his spine. It baffled him how intimidating Luciana could be. After all he was a killer! He was a former Templar! He had nearly been murdered once! He was about to become a fully initiated member of the Assassin Brotherhood! How could _this_ be the most nerve wracking experience of his life?!

 “Have mercy Madonna!” He pleaded, waving his hands almost frantically. “It is simply because you have only just returned and have not spoken with Maestro Ezio yet. I have information which I may not be at liberty to speak of but I can say that my timing is directly related. Although I would have approached you about this eventually, what I know has served to motivate me beyond my cowardice... Per favore Luciana... Seek the Maestro. He certainly has news you will wish to hear and it will clear away your questions.”

 Luciana still looked skeptical as he finished but slowly her lips curled up in amusement and after a long moment she rose from the sofa purposefully. “Very well, I shall speak to him now, I must deliver my mission report anyway.”

  _Vittorio_ stood also, bowing politely. “Bonjourno Luciana.”

 She paused, looking him up and down again with her appraising eyes before smirking. “Vittorio... Grazie.” She turned to leave but glanced back as she neared the passageway and turned back suddenly to face him again. “Mi dispiace, Vittorio. I- I should have spoken with you instead of acting as I did…” She dropped her eyes to the tiles again, cheeks pinking slightly as she again grasped the pendant. Touching it seemed to be a source of comfort and _Vittorio_ wondered what it represented to her. Perhaps he would ask about it some other time.

 “Do not think of it again Madonna. You are already forgiven.” He smiled as she looked up- a true smile of compassion and understanding which she mirrored. _Vittorio_ watched as she turned and moved off down the hall.

 When she was out of sight and hearing he collapsed back onto the sofa with a huff of exhaustion, his head falling back against the softness of the cushions, allowing his breathing and heartbeat to return to normal. That had been a trial the likes of which he had never endured. That woman was truly formidable, strong and fearless but ultimately still a sensitive soul. He thought perhaps that she might just be the perfect match for Marco.

 ~O~

 

The Great Hall was more densely populated with ranks of Apprentices and Assassini waiting to observe the advancement ceremony than _Vittorio_ had been expecting when he peered in through the partially open door. He had been the first one there and had awaited the arrival of his recent enemy with anxiety, but for the fragile understanding they had forged that morning he did not know what to expect. As he had discussed with Ezio the previous night, he did not reason that Luciana would be too keen to share her moment of commencement with one who had been apprenticed to the order only a fraction as long as she… However as she approached, he saw her smiling at him and he saw another thing, which was Marco walking beside her and smiling as well. They came up beside him and Marco greeted him with perhaps more reserved affection than he had displayed in the past and _Vittorio_ wondered briefly if Luciana had already made her feelings known to him.

 “Vittorio, congratulations! It is an auspicious day and one I surely did not expect so soon.” Marco crowed, clapping him on the back. Luciana, clad as he was in a shining new white Assassin uniform said nothing but only threw her arms around him and hugged him and _Vittorio_ was unable to respond for a fraction of a second due to extreme surprise. But then relief flooded through him and he heard her whisper “Grazie” through the fabric of his hood. _Vittorio_ returned her embrace and over her shoulder Marco grinned at him and winked, taking Luciana’s hand as she released him.

 It was truly going to be alright.

 Presently an apprentice poked his head out through the door and motioned that it was time. Marco waved as he departed to enter the Great Hall through a hidden side entrance and take his place in the audience. _Vittorio_ performed a deep bow and moved aside for Luciana to precede him through the door to their initiation. She patted his cheek with a nod of gratitude as she swept past him and entered the Great Hall. _Vittorio_ followed and soon they were standing side by side at the burning brazier. Ezio and Niccolo waited for the audience to come to order before beginning the ceremony that would take them both to the next stage of their lives with the Assassin Brotherhood.

 It was the day that _Vittorio_ had decided would be the true beginning of his new life. From this moment onward he would no longer think on his time with the Templars nor his sad lonely life before that. He would forget his past and focus on forging a future he could take true pride in. Save for Teodor and the problem with Fiora… Il Lupo was gone.

 His voice rang in his ears as he repeated the oath and his finger stung and blistered as the hot brand closed around it. He grit his teeth but it was over in a flash and then he was following Ezio and Niccolo and Luciana up to the tower and out into the orange evening sunlight- dazzling as its rays shot between low flat bottomed clouds near the horizon. The beauty of the Assassin’s Roma spread out around them like an ornate tapestry brought to life and given dimension; the blue vault of the sky overhead where the sea birds and raptors circled; the wide tranquil Tiber River below…

 As Luciana’s splash gave way to subtle ripples and she was observed to surface some distance away _Vittorio_ stepped to the edge and looked down at the surface of the river far below him.

 And he had no fear.

 Ezio, to his right nodded and _Vittorio_ threw out his arms and jumped without hesitation, feeling the wind rushing past him as he fell; the shrill cry of an eagle high above all he could hear until he tucked his arms in over his head to breach the river’s placid surface. Then it was a sudden wet chill and a roar of bubbles and he was bursting back up through the froth he had created. Vittorio paddled back into the hideout via the river access and hauled himself up onto the stone terrace where their boats were tethered.

 Vittorio Vitelli was an Assassin.

 Marco was waiting for him just inside the door with a towel and an armful of white and red clothing, the dripping uniform he wore would be cleaned and used for another initiation but the set Marco carried was his, tailored that very day and now his to care for. Marco waited while he dried himself and changed, the ill fitting and sodden outfit bundled up in a basket

 “Lu wished to change in private.” He supplied unnecessarily, a crooked grin on his face and Vittorio glanced up with a smirk as he buckled his boots and straightened his brace.

 “Is there something going on between you two?” He asked knowingly and Marco flushed across his cheeks looking a little chagrined. “No need to answer that but I must say, she does not hesitate when she makes up her mind about something…” Vittorio straightened up and tugged his hood into place, still curling his wide slash of a grin up at a sardonic angle.

 “Mi dispiace, Vittorio…” Marco began earnestly but then trailed off as if at a loss for how to proceed.

 “What are you apologizing for, amico?” Vittorio canted his head to one side and approached to rest his hand on Marco’s shoulder. “I am pleased you return her affections… If you had not, I am certain she would have found a way to blame me for it. So if you are asking forgiveness for saving me from death then believe me when I say that it is quite alright...” He laughed and gave Marco’s shoulder a squeeze before leaning in close and whispering past the edge of the taller man’s hood. “Beside that, Luciana now knows our flirting is innocent, so there is really no reason for us to stop… In fact…” He paused, trailing his fingertips down over Marco’s chest to grip loosely the edge of his wide brace, delighting in the man’s quick inhalation and brief fluttering of eyelashes. “I found that I was rather drawn to her myself and that does not happen often for me, with women… If she would be amenable… I would not be opposed to something of a… team exercise…”

As Vittorio let that hang in the air between them, Marco’s eyes were far away and he rocked slightly on his heels, flushed fully down into his collar. Truly he looked as if he might be about to faint and Luciana had just rounded the corner so Vittorio dropped his hand away and moved past his now visibly unsteady friend. “I’ve softened him up, Madonna. He is all yours…” Smirking and with an exaggerated wink he strode past the bemused looking woman and took the stairs two at a time, buoyed by excitement and pride and a bit of arousal… He could not deny that Marco did have that effect on him…

 Vittorio sighed… honestly he was hopeless… He only prayed that Teodor would be as understanding of this part of his nature as he had been of everything else… Vittorio needed to be completely true with Teodor. He felt physical infatuation for Ezio and Marco and a little for Luciana and with time and introductions there might be others… but he could sincerely say that his feelings for Teodor were completely different, deep and unshakable. With Teodor it was not a passing fancy or fleeting whim but the sort of anchor which held mountains up; a wellspring which flowed forth from the ground to supply entire countries with fresh water... It was the kind of thing which alchemists sought to create from base metals; beautiful and heavy and eternal and priceless.

 With Teodor it was love, pure and uncolored by conditions.

 At the top of the stairs Ezio stood and Vittorio was glad because he still had intelligence from Teodor to impart to the Brotherhood’s leadership and he needed to confess some things, and now seemed as good a time as any… so he steeled his resolve and nerves and thought of Teodor’s bravery as he mounted the last step and stood face to face with Il Mentore.

 “Maestro… I have important news which cannot wait…”

~O~

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vittorio listens to his conscience and returns to the Castello to rescue his murderer. Rodrigo's attempt to poison Cesare fails.

Chapter Warnings: A little bit of violence.

 

It wasn't until he was nearly upon his destination that Vittorio would even admit to himself what he meant to do. The very notion was likely folly but he had made his decision and as the familiar curved parapet of the Castel Sant’Angelo loomed before him found he could not turn back. For even if she had only assisted the Brotherhood in the interest of revenge, Fiora had been an ally once. As deserving as Vittorio thought she might be of her fate he could not abide the thought of her dying of thirst in a miserable Borgia prison cell. When they met, if Fiora was still alive, he would offer her a choice; freedom, with the stipulation that she leave Roma forever, or death by his blade.

Teodor indicated that she had remained in passable health during his time as her jailer but it had been several days since their meeting and Vittorio had asked him to remain clear of Templar controlled areas. As far as he knew, the man was in hiding and had not returned to her cell to care for her.

It was a gamble, but Vittorio would take the danger of discovery on himself for the knowledge had begun to gnaw at him immediately after learning that Fiora was a prisoner. His conscience would not leave it alone. He knew it was dangerous to play his only card against a possible enemy but although Fiora had betrayed him personally, he reasoned that she had done so purely because of her status as a double agent. At the time of his murder he had been a Templar and she an agent of the Assassins… Fiora would reveal to him where her loyalties lay on this night and her answers would determine his actions.

Vittorio had supreme confidence in his ability to infiltrate the Castello undetected. He had made skulking about it his business as Il Lupo and it had not been so very long since he had haunted its sprawling halls and rafters; its deeps and hidden passages…

Pacing along the outer wall he counted his steps carefully and then rapped upon the stones where the seam was imperfect. Rewarded with a resonating thud, Vittorio smiled. The cache was undisturbed. Slotting his blade in the gap he prised out a flat veneer stone to reveal a dry hollow with a wooden chest inside, retrieving from it a ring of copied keys to the dungeon cells as well as a black hooded cloak and a long dagger. The garment he shoved into his pack and the dagger went into his tall left boot. As an afterthought he withdrew a fat pouch of coins and added it to his own purse before closing the wall back up so that the space behind the veneer was undetectable.

It was nearly midnight and the guards were easily bypassed by an Assassin on silent feet in a familiar and well known environment. Soon enough Vittorio found himself in the dungeon. He had readied himself to dispatch any guards he found but there were none to contend with. The gallery and table were deserted and all but one of the cells stood open, their barred doors flung out against the stone walls. Here he allowed his footsteps to echo as he approached the single closed door, taking down a torch as he went.

Fiora was crouched near the back of the cell when he stepped close to the bars and he held the torch near to illuminate his features, curling his lips in a sardonic smirk so that she would be sure to know him. His white robes and half cape; his armor and the peaked hood he wore would not be sufficient to disguise him from one to whom he was so familiar. Vittorio did not mean to even try at anonymity and as she looked upon him from the shadows he saw recognition in her wide shining eyes.

Her pallor as she took in his visage might have been more satisfying if she had not already looked so bedraggled. Absent serious injury she did appear to be, as Teodor had said, but thin and hollow cheeked; clad only in a dirty shift, her hair stringy and her skin smudged. Vittorio thought he had never wished to see her so undone from how she remained in his memory; haughty and confident. It pulled at his heart to see her looking at him with terror in her wide, red-rimmed eyes. It reminded him of the night she had murdered him. The reflected torchlight and those eyes widening suddenly in fear as his rapier had nearly ended her; before the poison took effect… Her lips trembled as she pulled herself up the far wall and then neared the cell door on unsteady legs.

“You…? It cannot be you Lupo... You are dead… How…? Am I dead? Have you come to escort me to Hell?” She laughed then; suddenly, manically- pulling at her dirty locks. “No…” She rolled her eyes. “This is a dream… You are dead and I am still rotting although I remain alive.”

“I assure you this is no dream, Fiora.” Vittorio kept his voice even and flat. She would be used to it that way. Il Lupo had never used much inflection when relaying his reports. “You may have killed the Templar known as Il Lupo but _I_ am alive. I’ve come here to offer you a choice.”

For the first time she seemed to take notice of his white Assassin robes; his ornate brace and vambrace; his hidden blade. Her shadowed eyes widened impossibly and she took in a sharp breath. “Dio...Mio Dio… You!? I- I do not understand… How is this possible?” Visibly shaken she backed away from the barred door and the shadows again enveloped her.

“There is too much to properly explain right now. As I said. I am here to offer a choice. I will free you and get you out of Roma. Once this is accomplished you will go away from here and never return, never again are you to speak of Templars or of Assassins. You will live out your life in humble obscurity.” He paused to slot his torch into a sconce adjacent to the cell door and draw out the ring of keys. “Or I will come through this door and end your life here and now. Freedom and banishment or a quick death. I can give you no other options.”

“Why-” She broke off as he interrupted with a sharp gesture.

“Do you accept the terms of freedom or do you wish this to end in blood Fiora?” Vittorio hoped she would acquiesce. He sincerely did not wish to kill her any longer. He understood why she had felt it necessary to murder him and did actually admire her strength and determination. And from what Teodor had said of her unwillingness to betray the Assassins even under torture he could almost believe that she really did support their cause... Either that or she simply harbored that much hatred for Cesare...

After a moment of stillness her voice came from the deep shadows. “I accept, Lupo. Free me and I will leave Roma behind. I want no more to do with this fight. I no longer care who wins it and I cannot even trust my own memory or senses anymore so what would I have to offer either side?”

Vittorio nodded and quickly unlocked the cell door, pulling the heavy creaking thing out and away. Fiora stepped hesitantly out to face him, her eyes tracking over his garb once again. When he smirked she mirrored it nervously but said nothing, only shivered and huddled in the threadbare shift she wore, wrapping her arms about her thin frame. She was barefoot and Vittorio regretted having no boots to offer her. He did however produce the hooded cloak and she took it gratefully, securing it about her shoulders and tucking her disheveled hair away inside its deep hood.

Together they made their way up to the lower levels of the Castello where they could access the deserted servant’s passages but as soon as Vittorio gained the landing, there came a shout, an order to halt and Fiora froze on the stair behind him, flattening herself against the wall. Vittorio drew his rapier and also the long dagger from his boot, handing the latter back Fiora with a hissed order to remain behind him. The Guard came at him then and Vittorio lunged, ducking low to avoid the first strike and simultaneously impale the hapless fool with a backstab as he passed. The shocked guard fell forward as Vittorio withdrew his bloodied sword and turned, dropping a knee into the small of his back and deploying his hidden blade into the base of the man’s skull just below his helm, quickly finishing him.

Of course that could not be the end of it as the Castello guards seemed never to be alone and Vittorio crouched, readying himself as a massive Brute growled some inarticulate curse and charged him only to fall at his feet with the long dagger protruding from his right eye socket. It was over. No more guards appeared and the lower hall echoed only with their quickened breaths. Vittorio turned to Fiora with a raised eyebrow but she only shrugged, moving past him to wrench the blade free. She wiped it on the Brute’s sleeve and then moved to the smaller guard Vittorio had felled, quickly relieving him of his boots. They were still large on her but better than nothing.

He had forgotten how cool and pragmatic Fiora could be. Truly it was a shame she had not been found by the Brotherhood before Cesare had recruited her…

They continued their careful exit, finding the way blessedly clear and finally made good their escape via an ancient access tunnel that it seemed only the rats and Vittorio knew of. Fiora had remained silent the entire time but when they reached the street she spoke up, proclaiming her need to bathe and obtain proper clothing. Vittorio agreed and they made for a brothel which was relatively near and also closely allied with the Assassin Brotherhood as well as the Thieves' Guild. Fiora assured him she knew no one there.

It was a risk being seen with her but an acceptable one he thought. A vague but largely truthful story of a dramatic rescue once they arrived was all it took to have the girls who greeted them escorting Fiora away to a bathing tub, cursing the brutality and piggishness of Cesare’s men. Vittorio declined several offers of entertainment but paid the Courtesans a generous sum for clothing and for the bath. He waited in their parlor and mentally ran through scenarios ranging from worst to best case. Vittorio could see a dozen ways this could turn out badly for him but in his heart he knew he had done right by freeing Fiora. He knew he had been true to himself as Vittorio.

When she finally emerged, Fiora looked much improved. Gone were the layers of filth and even the sallow cast of her skin seemed diminished. The girls had plaited her hair and rouged her cheeks and lined her eyes with kohl stick. She was dressed in something a bit more modest than what Vittorio would have expected to find in a brothel and she turned to show it off as he stood from the divan. It was an odd little act and she seemed embarrassed as she twirled to face him, smiling lopsidedly; an honest expression and one he had never before seen on her face.

“Feeling better?” Since they were apparently being honest, Vittorio dropped his cumbersome mimicry of the dead Il Lupo and smiled naturally, laughing when Fiora gaped at him. He sat back down and gestured to a table nearby. “The ladies provided some bread and cheese and there is some wine if you like?” He lifted his own glass as she sat also and began to eat ravenously. He could not blame her and averted his eyes so that she would not feel self-conscious.

Presently she blotted her lips on a handkerchief and set the plate aside, levelling her gaze at him. He looked back with his best enigmatic smirk which drew from her an exasperated sigh. Vittorio laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. Her expression was simply too priceless.

“Who _are_ you? I see the face of a ghost. How can you _be_ here?” Fiora shook her head in clear bemusement and finished her wine.

Quickly Vittorio arose to check that no one listened at the door, returning to the divan once he was satisfied that the ladies were all occupied elsewhere. Still he kept his voice low. “I was lucky… and smart. I had been building my immunity to your poisons for quite some time before you betrayed me. As a result I was only stricken with paralysis… It saved my life. Had I been able to breathe I would surely have been drowned in the Tiber. Also there was a witness… a kind Dottore... I was pulled from the water and healed… saved.” Vittorio paused to refill their glasses.  “Some things happened after that, as you can see…” He gestured to indicate his distinctive clothing and she nodded. “I felt I owed you a debt and so when I learned of your imprisonment I made the decision to reveal myself… To come to you with a choice. For although you had no knowledge of what would ultimately happen, without your treachery I would never have been shown how wrong the Templars are about the nature of mankind. I would never have learned anything of myself and I would never have been free of Il Lupo. So Grazie, Fiora. And to answer your first question, I am Vittorio Vitelli, Assassin of the Brotherhood.” He stood and offered his hand which she took hesitantly and with an expression of mild shock, standing from the divan as he drew her up, asking- “Are you ready to go?”

“I want to stay.” She pulled her hand from his loose grip.

Vittorio frowned. This was not part of the deal… “We had an accord…” He intoned warningly. “I am grateful and if the truth is to be told, I no longer have any desire to kill you but those things cannot change the terms of our agreement. You said yourself that you are tired of the fight… that you care nothing for either side...”

“Per favore Lup- ah..V- Vittorio, I spoke rashly out of shock before! I do wish to aid the Brotherhood! I have been of use to them before!” Her eyes welled with tears that spilled down her cheeks, streaking them black with kohl. Vittorio sighed and plucked up the discarded handkerchief, handing it over. He was well aware how adept Fiora was at acting. At least she had enough discretion to keep her voice down… She dabbed at her wet eyes and smudged cheeks as he continued to appraise her skeptically.

Cursing under his breath Vittorio edged away to the parlor door scanning the deserted hall again. The last thing he wanted was for their conversation to be overheard by the Courtesans. Striding back, he leaned in close to her, keeping his voice low and neutral. “I hesitate to trust you Fiora. The Brotherhood is no place for the fickle. You hate Cesare, this I know but do you wish to aid the Assassins simply for the purpose of causing him harm or do you really believe in our cause? Do you believe that men and women of all classes are equal upon this Earth and that free minds are essential to the advancement of our civilization? Do you honestly wish to serve the Brotherhood or are you just after revenge? _Do not lie to me_.” He hissed those final words and Fiora drew back from him as if stung by them, twisting the handkerchief between her hands but she did not break eye contact as she began to speak.

“I admit that I initially turned against the Templars and Cesare because of my desire for revenge but as I worked alongside the Brotherhood I began to see the Assassins in a way that was never possible by only observing them from afar as we did… I began to understand that there was more to them that we ever imagined and I wished to be a part of it. I wished to conceal the things I had done which had harmed them in the past… You know the result.” She cast her eyes down and folded her hands together, wringing the handkerchief nervously. “In the end I _am_ a liar and a betrayer and I deserve no favors, but I want to be redeemed, Vittorio... Where the Templars seem capable only of turning decent people into scoundrels, and scoundrels into monsters, the Assassins are able to convert even the hardest of blackguards into men of conscience and courage… Baltasar and I created Il Lupo. I knew well what _he_ was capable of but seeing _you_ now… Seeing what you have become, I can remember honor… and hope. I feel shame for my years wasted chasing status within an organization where it could never have any meaning. I would have been better off had I remained in one of these places!” She gestured vaguely to the gaudy brothel parlor they stood in.

Vittorio pressed his lips into a thin line and exhaled through his nose. Fiora's words rang with familiarity in his mind, strikingly similar to his own thoughts regarding the Assassins when he had first entered the Brotherhood and he could find no reason to disbelieve her conviction. “Very well Fiora. I will keep your secrets if you keep mine. You sought to silence Il Lupo to protect yourself and you were successful. Il Lupo is dead. Can I trust you to keep him in his grave? If this is to work we must pretend that we have no history before this night…”

“I will never speak of our past again. I swear it.” She nodded emphatically.

“Bene… I swear as well. To any who ask I will know you by reputation alone.” Vittorio considered briefly before adding- “I will contact Francesco Vecellio. As your former handler he would be best suited to determining your future role, if in fact there is anything you can do for the Brotherhood…” He offered his arm in a gentlemanly fashion and she linked hers through it hesitantly. “Come, I will find you a place to sleep.”

“Grazie... Vittorio… That you of all people would do so much for me… Grazie..” She looked abashed with lowered eyes, her red mouth turned down at the corners.

He spoke lowly to her as they left the parlor. “I learned in the early days of my new life that kindness need not be offered only in repayment. One can always do another a good turn without the expectation of return and regardless of the perceived deservingness of the recipient... Freedom is not about doing as you like... It is about doing what is right.”

“By Dio, you _have_ changed… I would never have believed such a thing was possible…” Vittorio smiled, feeling a swell of pride at her words. He imagined Dottore tutting in approval which made him smile even wider.

As they made their way out to the front hall, a Courtesan near the door asked after their destination, reminding them of the late hour and that all the inns would have guests already in their beds and doors locked up tight. Vittorio had to admit that she was probably correct.

“Why not stay with us, Madonna?” The girl smiled. “We will make sure you are not disturbed. There is a room on the top floor which nobody uses because there are too many creaky stairs to get there. It is quiet at least.” Fiora easily agreed and the henna haired girl surveyed them appraisingly before adding in a sly tone- “Your Gentleman Assassin is welcome to remain here with you...” She laughed as they both began to simultaneously explain that Vittorio would not be staying, stumbling over each other's words.

Vittorio withdrew his purse and paid the Courtesan well for the accommodation, saying to Fiora as he released her- “Get some rest. I will send Francesco to you as soon as possible.” She nodded, already yawning and was taken gently by the arm. Vittorio watched until they disappeared up a winding staircase at the other end of the room and then he left, sincerely hoping that his luck would hold and that he had not just made a grave error in judgement.

Truly, being _too_ soft-hearted was the last affliction he ever would have thought he might suffer from.

 

~O~

“Then it is done?” Marco shifted his weight on the ledge and folded one long leg beneath the other, leaning back on his hands. He looked up at Vittorio, squinting against the early morning sky with an expression of vague disappointment. “I might well have expected some grand battle… although it is better for all of us this way… I can’t believe The Spaniard is finally dead after all this time… and by his own son’s hand at that.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Due only to an attempt on _his own son’s_ life having been disastrously unsuccessful…” Vittorio mused, staring out across the city from where he crouched beside the seated man. “I feel it is well that I have no blood family that I know of… They might have been like that...” He made a face and Marco laughed. From the base of the stairway they could hear Luciana shouting up at them to come inside and do some work.

They continued speaking as they took their time at picking themselves up and descending the stairs, discussing the varied reports of the incident. It seemed that Ezio had actually witnessed the Pope’s death. Present although concealed high in the rafters, he had watched as an ugly scene between Cesare and Lucrezia then unfolded, during which he had overheard Lucrezia reveal the location of an important artifact the Assassins had long sought to reacquire, enabling him to get there first and retrieve it. There was word that Cesare had been affected by a measure of Cantarella poison and while it had not been enough to kill him, he was reportedly sick and weakened.

 Teodor’s information had played an important role in the timing of Ezio’s infiltration and Vittorio had been instructed to relay gratitude to him from both Niccolò and Ezio. He had made his case for recruiting Teodor then and had been told that it would be considered; that they would at least give the former Templar protection and a supporting role in the periphery of the Brotherhood, or possibly a position within Bartolomeo’s mercenary army due to his many years experience as a cavalry soldier. Similarly, responsibility for Fiora had been reassumed by Francesco.

 Initially surprised when Vittorio had informed him of her rescue, inquiring as to whether he wished to re-establish contact with her, Francesco had asked how he had known she was a prisoner and Vittorio told him the truth, that an informant had revealed her location and status to him. He told the man he felt it was his duty to free her as she had been a useful ally in the past and that it did not feel right to allow her to suffer and die if there was something he could easily do to help.

 Left in Vittorio’s care while Francesco went off to the brothel to collect Fiora and move her to more suitable housing, young Giovanni had expressed relief that Fiora was alright, telling Vittorio in a somber tone that she had been trying to steal the magic Apple one night and that it was his fault she had been caught; lamenting that he should have listened to Consus. Vittorio knew this ‘magic Apple’ to be the artifact Ezio had retrieved but had been confused as to who Consus was, thinking perhaps the boy meant his _conscience_... Still he only reassured Giovanni that Fiora would be fine and bore no lasting physical damage from her ordeal. Giovanni had smiled and laughed and turned cartwheels as Vittorio watched and clapped, resolving to speak later with Francesco regarding the boy.

 Only days after his advancement to Assassino it would appear that his transition had been a success. The Masters of the Brotherhood did not question his loyalties even when confronted with evidence that he clearly knew people within the Templar order. They took his suggestions seriously. His past was never examined nor were his odd affiliations scrutinized. He was certain that Ezio suspected he had been a Templar but the Assassins seemed to believe redemption was something personal and that the Creed would regulate itself without the need for intervention. If Vittorio did no wrong under the Creed then how could the Order judge him for what he had once been?

 He now felt a bit foolish for having been so worried, however he knew he would rather not be forced to explain to the Brotherhood his former life, preferring to simply leave it in the past and move on.

 Luciana punched him in the arm when they finally joined her at the table in the Guild Management Area and in turn he rounded on Marco, driving a fist solidly into his shoulder, grinning as Luciana laughed and Marco rubbed the bruise, pouting unconvincingly before also giving in to laughter. Over the last few days they had spent much time together, discussing their recruit instruction regimens and creating timetables by which they would coordinate their individual and group lessons. Ezio had been, Vittorio thought, purposefully vague with regards to what he wished done, leaving it almost totally in their hands regardless of their inexperience.

 As an apprentice Marco had mentored recruits into the order but among the three of them, he was the only one who had done so. The responsibility of training raw citizens up into warriors was new and slightly daunting to Vittorio but Ezio’s confidence in them bolstered his own and he had thrown himself into the preparations, taking little time to rest.

 They had much work to do, it was true. The death of the Pope had caused chaos to erupt within the Templar order but Cesare had retreated, most likely to gather his forces and recover for another attempt to take back the city. The Assassins needed to use this time to train and prepare. They could not allow their enemies to rally and regroup. Now was the time to route the Templar cells which remained.

 Now was the time to finally liberate Roma.

~O~


End file.
